


Fajitas and Cake

by WordsAreMusicForTheEyes



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adorable Steve Rogers, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, Blushing, Cake, Crushes, Cutesy, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Innuendo, Jealous Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Romance, Steve is disturbed by the inter-nets, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Is Not Helping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-02-08 07:30:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1932096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsAreMusicForTheEyes/pseuds/WordsAreMusicForTheEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A certain national icon often visits the cafe you work at during the quiet evenings to order his 'usual', when he isn't defending the city from a variety of threats-ranging from terrifying to utterly bizarre.</p><p>You soon discover he's not just stopping by for the good food...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Back For The Usual?

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaannnd yet another Reader-Insert fiction to add my list. I can't help myself! They're just so much fun to write :3
> 
> And I was overwhelmed by the power of this little 'plot bunny' :D
> 
> So here is a healthy dose of 'feel-good', fluffiness and food...and Steve, of course. 
> 
> It's probably rather lousy, but I'm unleashing it on you all anyway ^.^ so...enjoy!

You're quite contentedly replacing the various cakes, pastries and tarts that have been demolished by the hungry masses that populate the cafe in the morning and afternoon. Fortunately for you, being on the evening shifts means not having to deal with miniature hordes demanding grilled cheese sandwiches, cappucinos, 'the blueberry pie special' or calzones. Instead, you pretty much get paid six dollars for about five hours of serving a handful of relatively pleasant 'night owls' and insomniacs, so you have few complaints.

But there is one particular customer who visits a few times a week, in the dusky evenings, who's caught your attention.

None other than Steve Rogers, or more precisely-Captain America. The serum-boosted American hero and national icon, who's public image makes him out to be a paragon of justice, a courageous defender of the people with a personality sweeter than a pan au chocolat.

So it's kind of odd to see this 'celebrity' stopping in at a cafe, like an average Joe, ordering his usual-two spicy chicken fajitas, coffee and a generous slice of chocolate cake. And of course, having been raised in the forties, he's always tremendously polite and gives you bashful smiles that melt your heart.

You watch the minute hand on the clock closely, willing for it to hit twelve. Your favourite customer has a habit of turning up at exactly seven o' clock, on the particular days he decides to swing by.

Sure enough, at seven, you hear the door being opened, and your head swivels round. The few customers there also peer up in curiosity. There he is, the familiar tall, muscular frame, with those attentive pastel blue eyes and the tidy crop of silky blond hair. He flashes you a shy smile when he notices you, prompting you to return the gesture with a dazzling smile.

 

"Evening, [Your Name]. Hope you're well?" He asks you, in that gentle, deep timbre of his.

"I sure am. Thanks for asking. How are you keeping, Steve?" You respond warmly.

"I'm alright, thank you. Had to attend a routine meeting with the others at Stark Tower. In other words, I really could do with a coffee." He tells you with a tired huff of laughter.

"Coffee...and the usual, huh?" You inquire, already grabbing the two chicken fajitas to put in the sandwich press.

"Took the words right outta my mouth there, ma'am." He chuckles. You glance back at him over your shoulder, intrigued by the little throwback.

"Ma'am?" Your eyebrow quirks up, and you grin mischievously. Steve blushes.

"Oh. Sorry. I sorta forget sometimes..." He admits, rubbing the back of his neck.

"It's okay. It's cute." You tell him, turning around to retrieve the chocolate cake so you can cut him a sizeable slice. You notice the creamy pallor of his face is tinged with a distinctive hue of pink.

"Um...oh...that's-um-that's good. Right?" He seeks reassurance nervously. You carefully place the slice of cake onto a small plate, and simply look up at him with-what you imagine to be-fondness written all over your face.

"Yes, Steve. 'Cute' is a good thing." You say.

 

After serving Steve, you subtly watch him take a seat and enjoy his food. He keeps peering out of the large window he's settled himself next to between bites of his fajita. You're attention is diverted by an elderly regular customer who's gotten a bad case of shakes, and spills her cup of tea on the floor.

"I'm sorry, [Your Name], the arthritis is acting up something awful today." She apologises earnestly, a folorn look in her eyes, as you go over and start mopping up the spilt drink from the floor.

"Aw, don't worry about it. When I've got this cleaned up, I'll bring you out another tea." You tell her kindly, wiping up the last of the liquid. When you get up to discard the cloth, you spot Steve staring at you, almost wistfully, his hands wrapped around his cup of coffee. After a few seconds, the super-soldier seems to realise you've caught him looking at you, and he averts his gaze abruptly.

 ** _Interesting_ ** , you think, **_very interesting_** _._

When you set to making up a fresh cup of tea for the elderly lady, you start to speculate the meaning behind that gaze.

 ** _Maybe he just zoned out? That happens to us all_** , you try and reason. _**Why would he look away so suddenly?** _ You query yourself.

 _ **Don't be stupid. He did that for the very reason of not giving you a misleading impression** _ , you scold yourself, annoyed by this over-analysis of something perfectly ordinary.

 ** _Come on, he's Captain America. Don't entertain any ideas there. He's sweet to you, end of_** , you resolve the internal debate.

 

Again, you're momentarily distracted from your task of cleaning the equipment by the door opening. Two people walk in, none other than Bucky Barnes and Natasha Romanov, obviously intending to meet with Steve-who gives them a small wave of acknowledgement.

Natasha makes her way straight over to Steve, whereas Bucky strides over to the counter to order for the both of them.

"Hey there, darlin'. Could I get two  black coffees and four rounds of toast?" He asks smoothly, with a flirtatious crooked grin.

"Comin' right up." You say, with a confidence that takes you by surprise.

"What's a gorgeous gal like you doin' in a place like this, then, huh?" He questions you.

"Having pick-up lines thrown at her." You answer coyly. This earns a raspy chuckle from the dark haired ex-HYDRA assasin.

"Oh, don't shoot me down here, doll. I'm a sensitive guy!" He jokes, gesturing to himself.

"Naw, I'm not shooting you down. Just hinting that you could do with some new material." You tell him impishly.

"Hey, gimme a break. I'm in my nineties, don't expect me to keep up with you whippersnappers." Bucky says, an amiable grin plastering his face. You laugh, the sound filling the quaint cafe. Steve looks up immediately. Natasha turns around and regards you stoically.

 

"Bucky, stop bothering the nice young lady, you dirty old man." She admonishes the super-soldier. Bucky leans against the counter, in an act of defiance, a hand resting on his hip. "Jeez. It's like taking an un-neutered dog out sometimes." The fierce redhead remarks, without any genuine conviction.

"Hey, Stevie, defend my honour, here!" Bucky calls to his best friend.

"Oh, Buck, defending your honour is a long lost cause." Steve points out wittily. You press your lips together to stop a giggle escaping.

"Ah, you little punk." Bucky says, waving at his two companions dismissively. Once he's paid, you hand him the two coffees, you mention you'll bring the toast across to the table in due course. He winks at you, then goes to join Steve and Natasha.

After about five minutes, you're taking across a plate, loaded with a mountainous pile of crunchy, golden toast, glistening with a thin layer of butter. The three Avengers are in the midst of a heated conversation, with Steve appearing somewhat chivvied and red-faced.

 

"...just ask for her damn number, you mook! Don't be so scared!" Bucky sounds frustrated.

"Just shuddup about it, Buck." Steve hisses, stabbing his piece of chocolate cake with his fork, rather viciously. When the blond realises you're standing beside their table, laden with a plate of toast, he goes from flustered to embarrassed. Natasha is blatantly suppressing a smirk.

"Um...here's your toast." You set the plate down, feeling vaguely uncomfortable with having entered the middle of a quibble. You hold out your hands in a little flourish. " Enjoy." You add softly, before scurrying back to the counter, suddenly feeling silly.

"You think she's gonna say 'no'? Seriously, Steve?" Bucky continues to pester his friend.

"No more, Buck! I'm not kiddin'!" Steve warns his closest friend. You figure they're probably referring to some stunning SHIELD agent he's taken a shine to, but is too anxious to approach her. You try not to let your self-inflicted disappointment show, and choose not to pay attention to their conversation for the entirety of their stay in the cafe.

 

When the three finally leave, you avoid looking at any of them and pretend to busy yourself with some menial task. Until you hear that lovely voice bid you farewell.

"See you around, [Your Name]." Steve says, almost timidly. You give him a half-hearted smile.

"See you later, Steve." You reply, dolefully, returning your focus to your job. You dare to glance up again.

Then you see something odd.

You'd been brewing in doubts about the cause behind Steve's behaviour, but there was no mistaking this.

 

He's staring at you, over his shoulder, longingly.

 

 

 


	2. Green-Eyed Avenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When an old friend, from your previous place of employment, appears out of the blue, you end up having an improtu reunion with him.
> 
> However, your 'favourite customer' seems somewhat perturbed as he observes this reunion...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realise it seems like Reader practically lives in the cafe, but seeing as where that's all the action is taking place-my advice is just to roll with it, hehe ;p 
> 
> So here we go, more cuteness and just a smidge ('smidge' being the operative word) of jealousy from Steve...*enter Original Male Character*
> 
> Enjoy, folks! :)

You're nearing the end of your shift, cleaning the tables and equipment, disposing of the freshly baked goods that haven't sold, all in preparation for closing the cafe at ten o' clock. The events of yesterday are still replaying in your head, coming close to consuming you. That look on Steve's face before he left, and the persistent encouragement Bucky was giving him-they had kept you mentally preoccupied for the majority of the day.

That look wasn't difficult to interpret, yet you're still shadowed by doubts. Every time you attempt to cast the thoughts aside, they return with a vengence, plaguing you to the point of frustration. You're so caught up in them, you barely hear the door of the cafe swing open.

"Hi there! You're not closing yet, are you? Sorry to come barging in if you are." A young guy's voice asks, dragging you from the whirpool of rumination. You cease wiping at the Formica-topping of one of the tables and glance up.

"S'okay, I'm not closing up for another half hour. I'm only allowed to serve drinks now, so if you're looking for something to eat, I'm afraid you can only grab the pre-prepared stuff." You tell him politely.

"Oh, I was only hoping to pick up a coffee with cream, actually-hang on a sec....[Your Name]?" He questions you softly. You look up, your brows knitted together in a small frown. The guy's face is scrunched up in concentration. A mere second passes before his eyes and face light up in recognition.

"Oh man, [Your Name], it's great to see you again! Remember me? It's Joe! " He's grinning elatedly, hopeful you'll recall. Your brain kicks into action and your mouth hangs open in astonishment

 

"Holy crap! Joe!" You gasp. Joe was a friend from the restaurant you'd worked in previously for several months. The two of you had tried dating, but found remaining friends was ideal for you both. You hadn't seen neither hide nor hair of one another for an entire year. Without a  moment's hesitation, you bound over to him and throw your arms around him. Joe lets out a delighted whoop of laughter, returning the hug with equal enthusiasm.

"Aw, I always loved your hugs, little lady!" He recalls fondly, nuzzling into your hair. The two of you stay like that, still hugging, and sway from side to side languidly.

"It's been way too long, you big dope! How've you been?" You ask, still holding him. There's no sexual tension, no underlying attraction...it's just two friends who haven't seen one another for a long time, and it warms your heart. You hear the door of the cafe open again. To any third party observer, this probably appears as a bit of 'canoodling' between a young couple. **_Who gives a shit? He's my buddy!_ ** You throw caution to the wind.

"Good, real good. I'm still at the restaurant, but I'm doing night classes in car mechanics, now that I've finally saved enough money. I'm swapping plates for spanners! How are you doing, little lady?" Joe releases you from his firm but comfortable embrace.

"I'm great, Joe! Just...well, working my butt off, really-but I'm happy!" You tell him. He smiles tenderly at you, and then ruffles your hair in a brotherly fashion. You whine petulantly at him, re-adjusting the tousled locks. He chuckles at your minor annoyance, then glances behind you briefly. Your heart skips a beat when you see his eyes widen, your first thought being that there's some masked would-be thief threatening you both at gun-point.

"Whoa. Holy shit!" He sounds astounded. You spin round, curious as to what could be evoking such an awed response from Joe, and see Steve standing near the door. You purse your lips and huff out a breath of relief.

"Joe, you idiot, don't just suddenly go googly-eyed like that. You freaked me out!" You chide your friend, before turning your attention to Steve.

 

" Hey, Steve! This is a bit out of character for you. You don't usually turn up on Tuesdays, never mind at half nine at night." You greet the incredibly awkward looking super-soldier.

"I-um...well...yeah, it's odd for me. But I just-um-came to talk to you about something-but you seem kinda busy...I'll come back tomorrow-" He stammers, ever the epitome of endearing diffidence. You wonder how he can be two such different people. Captain America, strong, courageous with quiet confidence as he tackles every obstacle in his path to fight some villainous force-then Steven Rogers, mild-mannered, reserved and inept at talking to any woman who isn't an Avenger or a SHIELD operative. The stark contrast makes you want to squeeze him like he's a teddy bear-a 'teddy bear' who's six foot, has a body mass which is entirely composed of muscle, and could throw a guy across a room without breaking a sweat.

"Aw, no, don't go!" You insist. "Me and Joe were just catching up. We haven't seen each other for a year, not since I left the restaurant to come and work here." You explain, gesturing vaguely at yourself and Joe.

"Oh...that's nice." Steve nods his head stiffly.

"This is sheer coincidence meeting you like this. I didn't even know you worked here, though I usually come along in the mornings." Joe returns his focus to you.

"Ah-ha, well there you have it. I'm the evening shift girl, Joe. Hey, do you still want your coffee?" You remember his original intention when coming to the cafe. It would seem counter-productive of him not to actually get the beverage he wanted in the first place.

"Yes, please. I'm gonna be a bit of douche, and ask for it 'to go'. I have to get back home pronto." Joe pulls a face. You tactfully choose not to ask, and start fixing your friend up with a drink. "Sorry for hogging [Your Name], Captain. She's all yours!" He gives Steve a rascally salute, with a face that's all smiles. Steve smiles back, but it appears strained. You quickly realise it is in fact a grimace.

 

"Seriously, though, you're an awesome guy. Kicking Chitauri and Doombot ass all the way!" Joe whoops. He's not being sarcastic or patronising, you know from your time at the restaurant together that Captain America is one of his idols. Steve, unfortunately, is unable to discern the admiration from Joe's comment, which is admittedly a tad ambiguous in its nature.

"Um, thanks, I guess. It's my job, I do what I do." Steve replies humbly, shrugging his shoulders. He could have been thanking Joe over praise of how well he made a grilled cheese sandwich. Your friend's grin falters slightly.

"Yeah...but you do it really well, man. We all appreciate what you guys do." Joe says, more whole-heartedly.

"Thank you." Steve responds more cordially. Meanwhile, you're watching this short exchange with curiosity, nearly finishing Joe's coffee.

"Sooo...gotta special lady in your life, Cap? I'm sure you've got gals lined up for you!" Joe inquires, roguish as usual. Steve's expression is pained.

"Naw, being Captain America doesn't exactly make me a prime candidate for the, um, **_dating scene_**. And, I'm not really the-whaddya call them these days- ** _playboy_ ** type?" He replies with a refreshing honesty that puts an automatic smile on your face. He notices this, and you see a glint in his eye, as the corner of his mouth quirks upwards at you.

"Hey, you're a one-woman kinda guy. I respect that. One's enough trouble for me-" He remarks mischievously, grinning impishly at you. You arch your eyebrow, and give him a dead-pan stare.

"Be careful, Joseph. Don't annoy the person making your coffee." You warn him jokingly. Joe laughs heartily.

 

"You know I'm kiddin', little lady! Actually, Steve, if you plan on settling on one gal-try [Your Name]! She's sweet, loyal, funny...and a firecracker in bed!" Joe adds rudely. You gawp at him in horror, making him chuckle more.

"Joe!" You yelp, feeling your face flush in embarrassment. Steve clears his throat, uncomfortably, his own pallor reddening.

"Oh, don't bust my chops! C'mon, if you give me my coffee I'll leave you alone and stop humiliating you." He hands over the couple of dollar notes in payment for his drink. When you pass him the large styrofoam cup of steaming coffee, which he takes carefully from your hands, he chimes-

"I have no doubt [Your Name] could raise your flagpole, Captain."

"Joe!" You growl. Steve is blushing furiously, looking around the cafe to avoid eye contact with you, and shoving his hands further into the pockets of his jacket.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't resist. Do I get a hug before I go?" He asks. You roll your eyes, but are unable to deny him such a show of affection. During your companionable hug, you happen to glance at Steve. Once again, his expression intrigues you. His face is stony, and brows slightly drawn together. Initially, you think it's because he comes from a time when men and women didn't behave with such familiarity with one another, unless they were lovers or married. It subsequently occurs to you that in the couple of years of living in the present day, he would have become desensitised to the sight. _**This** _ is something different...

 

Joe bids you farewell, and nods respectfully at Steve as he exits the cafe. Steve offers a less-than-friendly smile, which vanishes the second Joe can no longer see him.

"Steve, I'm so sorry about that. He's lovely, he really is, but he can be a little... ** _inappropriate_ **." You apologise earnestly. The Avenger smiles tenderly at you.

"You don't need to apologise one bit, [Your Name]. It's your friend I found...bothersome. Not _**you** _. You've gotta be one of the sweetest people I have the fortune to know." He assures you kindly. Those beautiful, baby blue eyes are looking into your own, as though he's transfixed. That warm feeling floods your chest, making you glow with delight from the inside out.

"Thank you, Steve. Say, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?" You question him, cocking your head to one side.

"Oh..um...I actually was just coming to-well-apologise for yesterday. If we made you... ** _uncomfortable_** at all...well, I should say if   _ **I**  _made you uncomfortable at all...I'm very sorry about that. I lost my temper a little, and it was inconsiderate of me to do that when you came by." He rubs the back of his neck, his face rueful.

"Steve, it's fine, I swear. We all get irritated, and it's not like you said anything unpleasant to me. You have nothing to apologise for either." You touch his arm gently. Steve's smile widens, making your heart flutter.

"You just seemed kinda down when me, Bucky and Nat were leaving-"

"I...had things on my mind." You say. A half-truth isn't a lie, it's just not divulging the information you want to keep secret. "But I'm okay now. Nothing to worry about."

"I'm glad."

"I was wondering, Steve...after I've closed up the cafe, would you walk with me back to my apartment? It's kind of lonely now and again walking by myself." You dare to ask. While you're doubtful he'll refuse, there's always the chance...

"It'd be my pleasure." He says, almost immediately after you finished speaking.

 

Your doubts about Steve's feelings towards you are quickly disappearing...

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe, hope you liked this chapter :) 
> 
> I know the whole original male character thing might seem a bit surreal, but it's for the sake of the plot ^.^
> 
> Thanks for reading! Next chapter should be out in a few days :)


	3. Goodnight Kisses And A Secret Sketchbook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Steve begin to bond during your walk home, and you uncover your own feelings for the Avenger as well as his own.
> 
> And a surprise visit from Steve's ice-cool, red-haired friend, with a very special sketchbook in tow, inspires a revelation...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy, people! Thanks for staying tuned with this fiction so far :) if you've been enjoying it, I'm glad! If you haven't...well, I suspect you wouldn't be reading this chapter, never mind the notes ^.^
> 
> Quick warning before anyone reads on-while this fiction doesn't have any actual 'hanky-panky-, just innuendos and occasional mentions of naughtiness, this chapter may come across as rather sexual.
> 
> Now I know what you're thinking- "You strange lady, this is a fan fiction site. Why would we be shocked by sauciness?" The forewarning is mainly for those who aren't as, shall we say, impressed by it. The story is, on the whole, intended to be relatively sweet. 
> 
> Okey doke, rambling over. Enjoy the chapter! :D

After going through the necessary rigmarole security checks and locking up, you and Steve finally emerge from the empty, dark cafe onto the street. It's surprisingly quiet, considering how notorious the city is for it's night-life. Not that you're complaining. You get to enjoy relative peace and Steve's company.

You glance up at the sky. It's an enchanting shade of midnight blue, glimmering stars scattered across, giving it the appearance of a bewjewelled evening gown.

Your dreamy daze is interrupted by the briefest biting chill. It's cooler than you thought it would be, and you're less than prepared. You shiver, goose-pimples covering your exposed arms. Steve immediately notices and removes his jacket.

"[Your Name], hold still for a moment." He tells you affably, placing the jacket on your hunched shoulders. When his hands brush against your shoulder blades, you repress the urge to wriggle into his touch. 

"Thank you, Steve. Ever the gentleman." You say, appreciative of the warm, supple leather against your cold skin. Steve smiles demurely at your comment. You then push your arms through the sleeves, and glance down at yourself momentarily. Steve gives you a disconcerted look when you emit a short whoop of laughter.

"Y'know, I don't think this fits me quite as well as it does you." You point out to the super-soldier who, now aware of the source of amusement, chuckles. The jacket, being ideal for a well-built guy like Steve, completely swamps you.

"I don't know about that. I think you look... ** _cute_**." Steve says wryly. You purse your lips in a puerile fashion, scrunching your nose, in the least convincing demonstration of annoyance.

"Oo, touche! That got turned on me quickly, didn't it?" You laugh.

"At least it's a _**good thing** _. " He replies. You nudge him with your elbow. Being with Steve makes you feel **_right_**. You don't know exactly how or why, as such, but there's a definite contentment when you speak to him.

 

"So, did you stop by when you did just because you knew it would be quiet...or were you hoping to walk me home from the very start?" You ask, elfishly.

"Honestly? Both." Steve admits. "I figured it would be easier to talk to you with nobody else around. That way, at least there wouldn't be anyone to see me acting like a total meatball. I mean, obviously, you would see me and have to hear me babbling away-but...I always feel like...you're not gonna look down on me for it. I'm not a smooth talker, if you can't already tell."

"I picked up on that. I don't mind-like you say, I'd never think poorly of you, Steve."

"That's real swell of you to say, [Your Name]. Thing is...I can talk to women, like Nat, or ones working with SHIELD like Maria and Sharon...but when I talk to you, I feel like that skinny kid back in the forties-"

"Oh, Steve..." You interject dolefully.

"Naw, I don't mean it in a...bad way. I sometimes have to look in the mirror to remind myself that I'm not _**him** _ anymore...physically. But...I am still him on the inside. So...when I see you, I even end up thinking 'Why would she want a little punk like me?'. It's kinda stupid, huh?"

"It's not stupid at all, Steve. The thing is, I like you for the **_person_ ** you are, and if that person is that shy 'skinny kid' from the forties-then believe me when I say this, I'd be as fond of him as I am of you now. It's not the packaging that counts, it's what's inside-and, despite what you think...what you looked like before the serum...would still be like extra special gift wrapping to me." You tell him the hand-on-heart truth. Steve looks incredibly moved by your words.

"Thank you." He says, in a hushed voice. You're feeling that warmth in your chest again, and there's a curious tingling in your stomach. **_Is that what I think it is?_ ** You begin to question yourself.

 

"Anyways, a lot of women prefer shyer guys. Especially if they've had experience of someone a bit too...hmm... ** _verbose_**." You alter the topic slightly, to skirt around the personal, metaphorical 'elephant in the room'.

"Like your friend?" Steve quizzes you pointedly.

"Hmm. Kinda." You concede awkwardly.

"Were you two-are you both...um-?" He doesn't seem able to bring himself to ask.

"We **_were_**. For a short while. It didn't really work. We were always better as friends and nothing more." You explain.

"Oh right. Um, if you don't mind me asking-it's none of my business, techincally but...that comment he made? Back in the cafe, about you being a...'firecracker in bed'?" Steve looks fazed just from questioning you.

"Oh boy, I really am sorry about that. Thing is, we _**did**_ sleep together, but only once. Don't repeat a word of this to anyone, but I wasn't exactly singing 'Hallelujah' afterwards-" You mutter to Steve.

"Ah, I see..."

"We just didn't click in that partiuclar way." You add hastily, so as not to completely tarnish Joe's image. **_Yep, nothing wrong with telling Captain America your ex-turned-platonic-friend wasn't a Casanova under the sheets_** , your mental voice, drenched in sarcasm, remarks. Steve simply nods, and doesn't pry. As you near your apartment building, the two of you enjoy a comfortable silence.

 

"You should bring all the others to the cafe some evening. It'd be interesting, and probably very entertaining, to see all of you together." You blurt out the suggestion.

"You'd probably need to evacuate the premises. Not only would I likely end up in a skirmish with Tony, but Thor has a fairly dismal track record in cafes and diners." Steve says jovially.

"Uh huh?" You make a vague noise, encouraging Steve to elaborate.

"His first time on Earth...he didn't know that smashing crockery on the floor isn't part of 'Midgardian tradition'." He explains, causing you to snort loudly in glee.

"I'll be sure to ask him, very sweetly, not to break any cups or plates. It would be awesome if you all swung by. I'd save two chicken fajitas and a slice of cake for you..." You jokingly bribe him.

"Uh, to convince me to bring the others along, you're gonna have to do better than my usual, [Your Name]..." Steve thrusts his chin up in the air, not looking at you-all in the parody of haughty expectation.

"Ohhh! No fair!" You whine. Then an idea strikes you, causing you to cling onto Steve's arm and bounce up and down excitedly, like a child on Christmas day. " Ooo! Ooo! **This** Friday, is Cannoli Friday! If you come along, I'll save you a cannoli!"

"What's one of those?" Steve asks, bemused by your bubbly outburst.

"It's an Italian desert, a tube of pastry with cream and various yummy things inside. I bet you'd like it...I'd bet you'd really appreciate if I saved one for you on Friday..."

"Hmm. Okay, you've won me over." Steve nods, confirming your easily-earned victory. "You probably could have won me over with toast, y'know." His turns his head to face you, a doting look in his eyes.

"Now you tell me!" You unwittingly find yourself returning his gaze. The picture you see before you is forever carved into your memory. Steve's golden hair beneath the dusty glow of the streetlights, the way his eyes appear-not just blue-but a soft turquoise, and the solid line of his jaw. **_Well, shit...I think this beautiful, adorable punk has got me hooked, lined and_ _sinkered..._** the truth dawns on you.

 

Steve stays by your side until you're outside your apartment, twisting the key in the lock. As soon as you hear the dull click, you turn to the super-soldier.

"Thank you, Steve...for walking me home. And lending me your jacket." You add, promptly removing the item of clothing and handing it over to him, slowly, carefully-as though it were a sacred artefact.

"I was happy to, [Your Name]. It was nice talking to you." He says, that familiar bashful smile appearing on his face.

"It was really nice talking to you too." You tell him. "Goodnight, Steve." You take a step towards him, go up on your tip-toes, and plant a gentle, chaste kiss on his smooth cheek. The delightful aroma of his aftershave wades into your nostrils.

"Goodnight, [Your Name]." He bids, his cheeks taking on a vivid strawberry glow. When he goes to leave, he stumbles over his own feet. You bite your bottom lip in the effort not to giggle at his temporary lack of co-ordination.

"You okay there, Steve?" You inquire kindly.

"I, um-yeah! Yeah...all good! Thank you." He stammers.

"See you tomorrow! And on Friday!"

"Sure thing! See ya then!"

 ** _How is it even possible for a super-soldier to be so fricking cute?_** You ponder, before entering your apartment.

 

Wandering into your living room, and snapping the light on, you spot the tiny LED of your phone flickering repeatedly. Thinking it to be one of your friends asking if you want to meet up, you scoop the phone up and go through the necessary procedure to bring it out of 'sleep' mode. You're taken aback to see a message from an unknown number, sent to you mere minutes ago.

**Hey! Is this [Your Name]? This message is from Joe, in case it is you.**

He must have kept your number from his old phone's contact list. Luckily for the both of you, you hadn't needed or wanted to change your phone. You text him a reply-

**Howdy, Joe. It's me :P you alright? Didn't get accosted by any horny drunk guys, did you? ;p**

**Sadly not X'( ;p would have really made my day!** He messages you back almost immediately.

 

 **Of that I have no doubt, Joe :D** **it was great seeing you today x**

**The feeling is indubitably mutual, little lady x I'm not sure your new boyfriend felt the same way ;)**

**Steve is not my boyfriend -_- we're good acquaintances.**

**Uh huh. He was very obviously 'jelly' when I hugged you. He luuurrrrvvvveeeees you, [Your Name]! He's about as subtle as a giraffe walking into a lions-only club wearing a toupe.**

**Well...I kind of did figure that out. He was really sweet and walked me home :3**

**Ermahged! CAPTAIN AMERICA WANTS THE V!!!!**

**You're terrible, Joe XD**

**CAPTAIN BE THIRSTAAAY FOR THE PUSSAAAY!!!**

**Okay, I'm just gonna sit here and facepalm for the next few minutes XD**

**Trololol :3 but seriously, he definitely has the hots for you...ask for his number or something. Get yourself some Avenger D ;p  
**

**Maybe I will. I'll be seeing him tomorrow. And on Friday-he's bringing the other guys with him! Eeeeeek! XD**

**No kidding? :o God damnit, you are a lucky woman. Never more have I wanted another grown man to fall in love with me just so I can meet the Avengers O.O though, to be fair, even as a guy I would still bang Steve. He's a solid ten, is he not?**

**YOUR BODY IS READY, JOE!**

**Hells yeah it is, baby! Anyhoo, I'm gonna hit the sack and let you carry on with your night :p see you around soon, [Your Name] :) I hope we can stay in touch x**

**Absolutely :) see you later, buddy :D x**

After sending your final message, you decide it's time to unwind for an hour before getting some sleep yourself. Unsurprisingly, you find yourself excited at the prospect of seeing Steve tomorrow...

 

 

The next day, you're back at the cafe, into the second hour of your shift. Yet again, there's a small handful of laid-back customers, sipping coffee, water or smoothies and taking leisurely bites of their food. As you place a sandwich in the press to toast it for one of the customers, you pay no heed to the door opening. _**It's not seven o' clock...so it's not him...**_ you remind yourself.

"So, [Your Name], I think it's time you and I had a chat." A familiar, raspy female voice pipes up from behind you. You spin around, your suspicions confirmed when you see the fiery red, shoulder-length curls, penetrating blue-green eyes and no-nonsense, steely expression. Your own expression, you assume, must be petrified, because a faint, one-sided smile plays at Natasha's lips.

"Relax. You look like you're about to be interrogated. I really am only here to talk. " She leans forward on the counter, folding her arms and tucking them beneath her chest as she does so. You spot a satchel, on a long shoulder strap, resting on her hip-and can make out a rectangular object jutting out ever so slightly.

"Does it involve mentioning numerous ways in which you could kill me?" You retort, eliciting a chuckle from Natasha.

"Nope. That only happens if you upset Steve. Which I doubt you would, seeing as you're so love-struck." She says, a world-wise glint in her eye.

"Well...um...I-how do you-"

"I know things." She answers, the shroud of mystery about this woman becoming ever more opaque. "Back to my original purpose for coming to visit you-well... ** _purposes_**. First off, the next time you see him-which going to be in forty-five minutes if that clock's correct-if he doesn't ask for your number, ask for his. Steve's an awesome guy, but he can be kind of a wuss with women. Especially when he's crushing on one like a school-boy. Seeing as the affection is reciprocated, it's not like one is going to reject the other. Secondly, I have something which may interest you. Don't ask how I acquired it. I have my ways." Natasha says, reaching into her satchel and pulling out, what looks to be, a sketchbook.

"Steve's?" You ask, though you already know it's his. Natasha makes a humming noise as affirmation.

"I would advise not telling him you have this in your possession. Not because I'm afraid of the reprecussions, or because he might get mad at you-which I suspect he's incapable of-but because it would very much embarrass him. Some of the drawings are kinda...well...you better look for yourself." She nods her head at the sketchbook, urging you to open it.

 

"Isn't this snooping in his private stuff?" You inquire, having a mild crisis of conscience.

"Yes. Is that really gonna stop you right now?" Natasha arches her brows at you. You flash a coy smile at the Avenger.

"Nope." Your reply earns a smirk from the red-head, who clearly admires your honesty and complete lack of self-deluded beliefs. You open up the sketchbook, and gasp in awe.

Steve's artistic skills are truly something to be marvelled at. The way he draws is so realistic yet so poetic, every soft pencil line confident, but simultaneously, not too bold.

The first image you see is of you, in the midst of a task behind the counter. It's nothing out of the ordinary, a normal observational drawing.

The second drawing is a close-up of you, head tilted to the side, a delighted smile on your face. He's given your hair an angelic glow beneath some imagined light source and emphasised a joyful sparkle in your eyes. Your heart swells with affection for Steve.

The next drawing is, perhaps, more sensual. Steve's drawn you from the back, your arms raised, hands scopping your loose hair into a pony tail and brushing it over one shoulder, to reveal your neck. Your face is turned towards whoever may be looking at the drawing (namely Steve), lips parted ever so slightly.

The fourh drawing is considerably more intimate. Steve proves himself to have intense artistic imagination, as this drawing is, once again, from behind-however, it's of you kneeling on a bed, a quilt crumpled around your waist. Judging by your bare back, you make the assumption that you're not wearing anything at all in the picture. Once more, your face is angled towards the artist/viewer-but an expression of desire plasters your face, with half-lidded eyes, and you nipping at your lower lip. Your admirer has taken special care in shading your lips, to give the illusion of a rich, alluring colour.

 

"Interesting, indeed..." You remark, still staring at the image.

"Uh huh. Steve's got quite the imagination, hasn't he?" Natasha peers at the drawing herself.

"Yeah. I would never have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes, to be honest."

"You and me both."

"He never struck me as the kind..."

"[Your Name], Steve may be one of the nicest guys in existence...but let's not forget-he's **_still a guy_**. I mean, this is possibly his equivalent of porn so-" Natasha points out, but ceases to speak when she sees your dumbfounded expression. "Oh? What? You don't think Captain America has needs?"

"No, no, it's not that. Maybe it sounds lame, but I'm kind of flattered." You say, bashfully. Natasha rolls her eyes, not unkindly, then proceeds to smile wryly.

"Hardly surprising. You want a real compliment? Turn to the next page-there's some unequivocal proof Steve's got it _**bad**_ for you." She presses her lips together, as if holding back laughter. You slowly ease the current page up, letting it travel its path along the spiralling hoops of the binding. Any voluntary control over your mouth is lost as it hangs open in astoundment. Your eyes widen as you crane your neck in, as though decreasing the proximity between your face and the drawing will somehow make it any less surprising.

 

Natasha wasn't kidding. The image is infallible proof of Steve's affections...and apparent desires. You feel your cheeks burn at it's intimate, tender nature. While in some ways it's explicit, there's nothing actually vulgar about the drawing. More precisely, it could be described as **intensely erotic**.

Steve has drawn you lying back on a bed, nude, with sheets tangled about your feet. Given the fact he's never seen you with your clothes off, he's done a remarkable bit of guess work and managed to re-create your figure almost perfectly. He has, however, pencilled your left arm draped over your chest. Whether this is for decency, or simply because he doesn't know what your breasts look like, is a question only he can answer. What makes the image particularly risque is where your right hand is positioned, and if the subtle arching of your back and the look of tranquil ecstacy on your face is anything to go by, you can easily guess what he's drawn you doing.

"Wow." Is all you can say.

"Yep. Just thought that would help you...appreciate the depth of his affections. So...what are you gonna do when you next see him?" Natasha asks you, as though she's a school-teacher quizzing a child.

"Ask for his number if he doesn't ask first." You reply abstractedly, still distracted by the drawing in front of you.

"Good. We're clear then. Well. That was a nice talk, we should try doing that again some other time. If things work out with you and Steve, of course. See you around, [Your Name]. Enjoy your admirer's drawings." Natasha bids you farewell briskly before gliding out, not giving you the chance to reply.

Not that there's anything else to really say to her. She's as aware of it as you are.

You know exactly _**who** _ you need to talk to...

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this, people!
> 
> I know it is a bit saucier, but I'll bring back the cutesy-ness in the next chapter ^.^
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


	4. No Blushing Over The Spilt Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally decide to talk to Steve and broach the topic of his feelings for you, as well as acknowledging your own.
> 
> Needless to say, his 'personal' sketchbook enters the conversation, and things go somewhat pear-shaped...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for keeping you folks waiting, I'm doing a juggling act with some other pieces I'm writing at the moment, so I didn't get chance to give this fiction the due care and attention it needed. Now I can spend more time writing fluffy-goodness! ^.^
> 
> Hope you like it!

You slide the sketchbook into an unused shelf built into the counters. It seems the only secure place to keep it, away from prying eyes. However, you are mostly aware none of the handful of customers in the cafe have any express interest in leafing through Steve's drawings.

But because of their fairly erotic nature, you feel as though they're an incriminating secret you need to keep hidden away. Despite the fact semi-nude and completely nude women have been the subject of many an art-work, **_this_ ** is different. _**This**_ is so personal, so intimate. It's Steve's sketchbook, the drawings are his perception of you, intermingled with his feelings towards you-both emotional and sexual-the images are not just beautiful examples of his skill, they're his vulnerablity. 

And you'll guard them like a Rottweiler, if you have to. Your main intention is to return the sketchbook to its owner, and discuss its contents-without overstepping the boundaries of Steve's comfort-and the feelings you share for one another.

The next half hour drags at an agonisingly slow pace until Steve arrives, with admirable punctuality, at exactly seven. The national icon is looking particularly dashing today, in a fitted white t-shirt that ever so slightly clings to his muscular build (a change from his plaid shirts, for certain), Maya blue jeans, dark brown, lace-up boots and his hair sexily ruffled. He's, without a doubt, incredibly prepossessing.

You snap into reality, aware that you're gawking at the super-soldier. You offer him your most doting smile, and are expeditiously rewarded with a winsome smile from Steve. That familiar blush appears on his cheeks as he approaches you.

"Hi there, [Your Name]. Life treating you well?" He asks, softly.

"It's treating me really well, thank you, Steve." You reply, with unintentional ardour. You feel your face heat up, and peer down at the floor, embarrassed. _**Jesus, now I've turned into an infatuated**_ _ **school-girl,**_ you admonish yourself. "Um...er...how-how are you?" _**I have to remember, he drew naked pictures of me! It's no wonder he blushes when sees me-all that stuff's going through his mind. He's got quite the vivid, sordid imagination and...**_ your blush deepens. Steve observes you, a bemused expression on his face. He's probably speculating if some role-reversal has taken place.

"I'm great, thanks. All the better for seeing you." He adds, whether just out of genuine fondness or because he's enjoying the rosy tint of your cheeks and the tentative nibbling at your lower lip-you don't know-either way, it draws forth a giggle from you.

 

"Oh, for Christ's sake..." You mutter, covering your face in shame. It seems you've been temporarily stripped of your composure. 

"Are you alright, [Your Name]? I'm not making you uncomfortable, am I?" Steve inquires. You remove your hands from your face, and give him a weary smile.

"No, Steve, you're not making me uncomfortable. You never do. I'm just...having one of those days." You give a feeble excuse, but the super-soldier accepts it without question. **_It's not often I see naked drawings of myself, done by a gorgeous national icon_ **.

"Aw, it's okay. If it's any consolation, every day is like that for me. But that's not news to you, huh?" It's now his turn to be bashful.

"Nope, but I don't mind. You look even more handsome when you're blushing-" Your eyes bulge, and you clap your hand over your mouth, praying nobody else in the cafe overheard. "You know what? I'm just gonna shut up and get you your usual." You resolve, unwrapping two chicken fajitas and placing them in the press.

"Hey, don't worry about it. I turn into a goofball around you, and you said yourself, you'd never judge me. I'm not gonna think poorly of you for being one too. Not that you are. I don't think you ever could be." Steve's voice is quiet, yet resonates with clarity in your mind. You turn your head to look at him. "You look beautiful today, [Your Name]. Then again, you look beautiful every day. I guess I finally got the guts to say it." He tells you sincerely. 

"Thank you, Steve." You say, suddenly on cloud nine. There's a small sting of guilt in your chest when you remember you're going to be questioning him about the sketchbook. You only hope it won't dampen his affection for you.

 

When the super-soldier is sat down, contentedly tucking into his meal, you pace back and forth behind the counters, knotting your fingers together. Your stomach twists with the on-slaught of nerves. You finally summon up your courage, and slide the sketchbook from the hidden shelf, tuck it under your arm and approach Steve at his usual seat beside the cafe window.

He notices you making a timid bee-line for him, and carefully returns his half-eaten fajita to the plate.

"Everything okay, [Your Name]?" He inquires, as you take a seat, keeping the sketchbook balanced on your knees, hidden beneath the table.

"Yeah...yeah, Steve. Everything's fine. I just...there's a few things I need to...well...I'd like to talk to you about." You say quietly, peering around, making sure none of the customers are being overly-curious about the hushed exchange. Steve's expression is so earnest, it borders on consternation.

"Is something wrong? What's happened?" He asks, reaching his hand across the table as if to touch your arm-but then ceases to do so and leaves his palm flat on the table, as if spontaneously reticent.

"Oh, nothing's wrong. It's nothing bad, actually." You assure him, smiling. He smiles back, creases appearing at the outer apexes of his eyes. You're enticed by the siren's song that are his azure irises, regarding you with such tenderness. "Actually, you might think it's kinda weird-"

"Aw, I doubt it. C'mon, you've struck my interest-whatever it is, you can talk to me."

"It's about your crush on me." You blurt out. Thankfully, your voice is still quiet, so nobody swivels round to listen in. Steve stares at you for a moment.

 

"Y-yeah? What-what about it?" He seems apprehensive.

"I...I wanted to know for certain if you-um-liked me." You say, diminuitive.

"Oh. Well. I do. I thought-I thought you figured that out a while ago. I mean, what happened yesterday, walking you back-I thought was as good as me saying it..."

"I did...kind of already know, but I had to be sure. There were signs, little things I picked up on. But I honestly believed you were being sweet, because-well, you're a sweet guy, Steve. And I didn't think you would ever take a shine to me. I mean...c'mon, you're Captain America, you're totally-I hate to sound like a sycophant but-you're **_perfect_**. You have gorgeous women willing to throw themselves at you. Can you see why I would find it difficult to believe you had a crush on me?" You ask him.

"I understand, [Your Name]. I'm truly sorry you felt that way." A flash of his doleful, puppy eyes makes you want to stand up and wrap your arms around his broad shoulders.

"I didn't want to build my hopes up too much, because if it turned out your affections lay elsewhere...then I would have had a crush on someone who didn't like me back. Unrequited love hurts." You explain. Steve's face lights up in jubilation.

"You like me too?" He asks you.

"Course I do, you big dope. I practically wait for you to come to the cafe. I look forward to the days you turn up. I love seeing you smile at me the way you do. I get that fluttering in my chest and stomach when I hear your voice. I didn't want to acknowledge it, otherwise-like I said-if I found out you didn't feel the same way, it would hurt like hell." You finally admit.

"[Your Name]..." Is all he says, with a look of total adoration. In a burst of confidence, you lift your hand from under the table and rest it on his. You could weep in joy when he twists his around and clasps it around yours, with his warm, tapered fingers. 

"I'm completely stuck on you, [Your Name]. I'm real glad you feel the same way." Steve squeezes your hand gently. It's not long before you're grinning like the cat that got the cream and then some.

 

You stay, fixed in that position for a while longer, your hand clasped in his, eyes locked in an enamoured gaze.

Then you feel the sketchbook slipping down your knees a fraction. With a disheartened sigh, you glance down, breaking the loving eye contact.

"There's something else I want to talk to you about, Steve. I'll understand if you hate me after this. It's pretty...personal." You gingerly set down the sketchbook on the table, between you both.

"Um..." Confusion passes over his face, but is quickly replaced with distress. It's the first time you see the ivory tone of his skin turn a sickly, papery white. "Is that...mine?" He dares to inquire.

"Yes." You reply meekly.

"How-?"

"Natasha."

"I shoulda figured. Please tell me it's not-" With his free hand, he tentatively lifts the cover to reveal the first page, then drops it with an agitated groan- "Oh no..." He abruptly pulls his hand from yours and presses the heels of both hands against his forehead.

"Steve, Steve-I'm sorry...I shouldn't have-" You begin to apologise, terrified you've shattered your chance with him.

 

"I'm such a moron." He berates himself. "Please tell me you didn't look through the whole thing?"

"Errr..." You can't bring yourself to lie to him, so you hesitate, only feeding his frustration.

"Damn it. And if Nat gave it to you, she's probably seen-oh **_damn it_**." Steve tries to say as quietly as he can, to avoid drawing attention to you both.

"I'm sorry, Steve. I didn't mean to annoy you..." There's that unpleasant ache at the back of your throat, and your eyes are starting to well up. Steve quickly grasps your hand again and assures you softly-

"Hey, hey, please don't cry, [Your Name]. I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at **_me_**. For being dumb enough to **_draw_** those pictures...well...mainly the **_inappropriate_** ones. I just...I couldn't stop myself..." Steve blushes.

"Steve, they're incredible drawings. I don't care if I'm smiling or butt-naked in them-" You insist, causing his face to glow, "-I was flattered. Really flattered. You shouldn't be ashamed of them. You like me, it's only **_natural_ ** you're gonna think of me in **_other ways_**. It's not all hand-holding and strolling through parks."

"I didn't want to seem like a...creep." He clarifies.

"It's not creepy. Like I said, I'm flattered you thought of me...like ** _that_**. I gotta say, Steve, for someone who's never seen me naked-you sure drew me accurately." You compliment him. Steve's discomfort is successfully fractured, and he chuckles.

"Thanks. I...um...put a lot of thought into it." He replies demurely.

"I don't doubt it." You tease him, winking coltishly. He titters nervously, picking up his cup of coffee to take a swig.

 

"Drawing the last one...was kinda difficult. Not so much guessing what you look like, um, without clothes because-" He balks.

"Steve, have you been ogling my body? And here I was thinking you were innocent and virtuous." You remark, your words drenched in irony.

"I...well...maybe. It was more...when I was drawing...I kept-I kept getting...getting-" He stammers, flushing crimson.

"Turned on?" You suggest, alluringly. The super-soldier jolts and drops his cup of coffee, dousing his crotch and the floor beneath him in the liquid, and leaving ceramic shards scattered around his seat.

"Oh, boy, I'm real sorry, [Your Name]!" He apologises, dragging his chair back. "Ah! Ow! Ow! Oh, that's hot!" He yelps, rubbing at his soaked jeans with the back of his hand.

"S'okay! I probably shouldn't have said what I said-" You hurry over to behind the counters and grab a couple of cleaning cloths. Without thinking, you begin scrubbing vigorously at Steve's crotch with a cloth, to wipe away the offending liquid. When you realise what you're doing, mainly from the bug-eyed expression on Steve's face, you drop the cloth on his lap and gasp.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! What the hell am I doing?" You demand of yourself, seizing up on the spot. You turn to see the customers watching, bemused and fascinated by the scene unfolding before them.  You're hardly surprised by the sight of their mouths pinched into suppressed smirks. From their angle, the sight of you wiping Steve's crotch would have looked more than a bit obscene.

 ** _I just made improper contact with a national icon, who also happens to be a customer. I really hope my manager doesn't find out about this,_ ** you think. _**Oh, man, Steve looks so violated.**_

The super-soldier has his eyes fixed on you in stupefaction-like you've just offered to give him an unlubricated colonoscopy. Or continuously rubbed his scorched groin in the middle of a cafe. After some consideration, you decide the former would have been less humiliating.

"Oh, sweetie-" A middle-aged woman pipes up from one of the tables, "-trust me, you're not the only woman who's wanted to get her hands on Captain America's package." A chorus of snorts and giggles erupt from the handful of customers in the cafe.

Both you and Steve blush furiously.

 

Following an uncomfortable few moments of moving Steve to another table and cleaning up the spilt coffee and ceramic fragments (which Steve had politely offered to help with, but you had gently declined to spare him any further awkwardness), you dispose of the coffee cup shards and stained cloths.

You stand behind the counter, leaning forward, elbows on the work surface-with your head in your hands. The next few minutes are spent wallowing in self-abhorrence. You recall Natasha's orders to get Steve's number if he didn't ask for yours first.

 ** _Why the hell would he give me his number after all of that?_ ** You ask yourself, your mind flooding with doubt.

Steve's just about finished his meal, chewing mouthfuls of chocolate cake thoughtfully. It's difficult to tell if he's actually submerged in contemplation...or just really enjoying the baked treat. Bracing yourself, preparing for further embarrassment, you shuffle over to him.

"Steve...I know I keep bothering you..." To this, Steve offers a sympathetic look, "-It's just...well, I'd understand if you didn't want to, after today....I was wondering if I could get your, um, number?" You request timidly. "I completey understand if you don't want to. I figured it was...worth...trying..." The expression on his face is indecipherable, so whatever shreds of confidence you had remaining drift away. You heave a crestfallen sigh. "I've really screwed up, haven't I? I'll just-get back to work. Let you carry on with eating. Sorry, Steve." You say, dejectedly, before retreating back to your place behind the counters.

With your back turned to the tables, trying to keep yourself occupied with menial tasks that don't really need doing, you're unaware if Steve is still in the cafe or leaving. The whole situation is unpleasantly familiar to the one a few days ago-suffering from the wretched low of disappointment. The wretched low becomes downright lamentable when you hear light footfalls and the cafe door being opened. You briskly swing your head around, and are greeted with the disheartening sight of Steve leaving.

 

To your annoyance, a few tears roll down your cheeks. You wipe them away, irately, with the back of your hand. You're determined not to shed any tears. Instead, you go to collect the plates and cutlery Steve left, neatly stacked and arranged in that meticulous way he does.

As you gather up the crockery, your eyes are drawn to a small slip of paper on the table.

There's a phone number, and beneath it reads-

**_I really hope you get in touch soon._ **

**_-Steve_ **

**_XX_ **

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-dah! Keeping my fingers crossed I haven't disappointed!
> 
> I know Reader seems to be on an emotional rollercoaster going from 'Does he like me?' to 'He likes me!' to 'Oh, he doesn't like me anymore' to 'Yay! He really likes me!'...but I guess that's how some of us feel in those situations.
> 
> I think :3 hehe...


	5. It's Just Like Meeting His Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following an exchange of messages with Steve, the visit on Friday is confirmed, and the possibility of other plans for the both of you are addressed.
> 
> You have your concerns about meeting the Avengers, but when they make an entrance you didn't at all expect, you're not entirely sure what to make of them...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Five, folks! I tried not to keep you all waiting for too long ^.^
> 
> I know it's mostly 'text messages' and dialogue, but that's just how this chapter worked out :D
> 
> I really hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Excuse any errors, I'm a bit of a dope when it comes to doing a check :3

**Hey, Steve. It's [Your Name]. Thank you for leaving your number. I genuinely thought you wouldn't...or at least, I wouldn't have been surprised if you had. I'm sorry about the events that transpired today :/ x**

You nervously tap the message out on your phone's keypad, and send it to him. For the next several minutes, you and your phone are inseperable, your eyes glued to the screen willing him to reply post-haste. 

**Hi there, [Your Name]. Sorry it took me a while to respond. Still trying to get used to phones-all these darn buttons! And it wasn't a problem, I was more than happy to leave my number. In fact, I was glad you asked...I think I would have still been too nervous to ask you. I didn't say anything at the time because I had a mouthful of food-I figured you wouldn't want to hear me talking around a wad of cake! What happened today hasn't annoyed me in the slightest...it was sort of funny. Embarrassing, but funny. You didn't do anything to apologise for :) like I said, I'm completely stuck on you xx**

You're not the greatest acrobat, so how you manage to do a back-roll on your couch is beyond you. Sheer delight perhaps was the motivator. You kick your legs in the air, squealing ecstatically. Unfortunately, caught in the moment, you loosen your clutches on your phone-previously held above you-and the electronic gadget tumbles down and collides with the bridge of your nose.

But you don't care about a sore nose. At least, not after a loud yelp and a hissed profanity. Because Steve Rogers- _ **Captai**_ _ **n America**_ \- is whole heartedly besotted with you!

 

**Aw, Steve! I'm so, so happy to hear that! I got so upset...I thought I'd really screwed up with you! :o but I didn't, so...YIPPPEEEE! And like you say, today was kinda funny. We might be able to look back in a few days time and laugh. Right now, I'm still blushing just thinking about it. I should apologise for manhandling you, more than anything else. Good thing my manager wasn't there...I probably would have been disciplined for sexually harassing customers XD xx**

**In all fairness, I'm still feeling embarrassed about it too. I mean, I wouldn't say you were manhandling me-just helping me out. That coffee was hot and burning in places that shouldn't be burned! You certainly weren't, um, 'sexually harassing' me xx P.S.I'm glad to hear you're happy xx**

**I hate to break it to you, Steve, but I was rubbing your groin in the middle of a cafe, as far as other people could tell. And you looked very violated :p xx :* (that's a 'kiss' emoticon, just in case you're not sure-not being patronising or anything) xx**

**Ah, let's not get caught up in details, [Your Name]. I guess I was a bit surprised, but it was very sweet of you to try and help xx oh, I know, don't worry. Nat and Clint have been teaching me and Bucky the ways of twenty first century technology. And they say an old dog can't learn new tricks! xx**

 

**I'd hardly call you an 'old dog' but fair do's. So how are you finding the technological delights of the modern day? Enlightening? Confusing? Disturbing, perhaps? :D xx**

**All three! It's fantastic what you can do, makes life much easier than it was in my time...but boy is it mind-boggling! And I gotta say, the internet is a very strange thing :o (I think that's the first emoticon I've ever used) xx**

**You and many others would agree with that sentiment, Steve :D xx**

**I should think so. Tony told me to search a couple of things on Google. The things I saw! It was horrific! I typed in something called 'G.I.L.F in action'...it was disgusting! I've never been so uncomfortable in my life! xx  
**

Before responding to Steve's message, you take a few minutes to hoot with laughter and then collect yourself. Your heart goes out to the poor super-soldier, still adjusting to this century, all while being 'punked' by his fellow Avenger into searching geriatric  pornography.

**Oh, Steve, you're so damn adorable sometimes! I'm sorry you got 'played' by Tony...it just makes me want to hug you so much right now! :'D I'll help you overcome the trauma of being exposed to the weird side of the internet! xx  
**

**Well, if I get hugs from you for being traumatised I may let Tony pull more pranks on me :) xx**

**Steven Rogers, you smooth devil, are you flirting with me? ;p xx**

**Oh boy! I didn't realise! I wasn't trying to be inappropriate or anything xx**

**I'm teasing you, Steve :p Even if you were flirting, you weren't being inappropriate. I know you were being incredibly sweet xx**

 

**That's swell! :D I was wondering, [Your Name], would you still like me to come along to the cafe with the others on Friday? xx**

**You bet I would! Only if you're comfortable doing that. And if they're willing xx**

**Absolutely! I kinda want them to meet you :) they'll be willing. Nat seems to have a soft spot for you, Bucky will be glad I've finally gotten the courage to talk to a gal I like, Tony and Clint will be intrigued about you, Thor will probably want to consume every single item of food in the cafe, and Sam and Bruce...well, they'll just be happy to be going out for dinner. xx  
**

**Awesome! Definitely come along! I'll be saving you that cannoli for sure! Plus, it means I'll get to see you again this week xx**

**Super :) I'm looking forward to it already. And well, maybe, we could see each other again after Friday? I was wondering if you wanted to, at the weekend, go out somewhere? Like on a date? xx**

You pray your neighbours in the nearby apartments don't hear you shriek ebulliently.

**I'd love to! Any preferences for where we go? :) xx  
**

**We could go catch a movie :D or go to a restaurant? Wherever we feel like on the day xx  
**

**Sounds great :D xx I'm sorry to cut our conversation short, Steve, but I'm afraid I'm gonna have to hit the sack. I'm looking forward to seeing you on Friday and our date ^.^ xx**

**Same here :) goodnight, [Your Name]. Sweet dreams xx :* (have I done that right?)**

**You have :* goodnight, Steve xx**

 

Your face aches from smiling so much, but no matter how fatigued your muscles feel every time a grin tugs at your lips, you are undeniably happy. It soon dawns on you, however, that you'll be meeting the Avengers, Steve's team-who, even despite their conflicts, are as close-knit as a family.

The way Steve phrased it certainly emphasizes that belief.

_**I'm meeting his freaking family**_ , you conclude after a few moments of deliberation.

An unwelcome, familiar churning sensation of anxiety grips your stomach...

 

* * *

 

Fast approaching seven o' clock, you bustle and scamper around the cafe, cleaning spotless tables and equipment, fidgeting relentlessly and fixing your hair compulsively. When you finally take a moment to stand still behind the counters, you become self-conscious of your limbs trembling.

You pluck at your skirt, fretting over its length. In reality, it's only a few mere inches above your knees, but in your moment of dismay-it seems to transform into a mini skirt.

You'd wanted to look stylish, sleek and a little sexy. You'd teamed your usual black, button-up uniform shirt with a figure-hugging, black skirt, and donned some pantyhose of a slightly lower denier than perhaps be considered suitable for work. A part of you was hoping to provide Steve with some **insight**...

_**Y'know, for his art and stuff**_ , you half-convince yourself.

Taking a few deep breaths, you resume your usual barista/cafe employee duties.

Just at the very moment you begin to feel the faintest hint of relaxtion, the cafe door is thrown open and a voice calls out-

"Everybody! We're gonna need you to evacuate immediately! There's been some concerns about mutant reptile eggs underneath the foundations of this building-and trust me, when those babies hatch, you won't want to be in the vicinity. I'm talking big ass, Godzilla babies! And they're gonna be _**hungry**_ !"

 

You spin around to see the Avengers standing in the cafe, each one looking fierce and braced to do battle. Most of them are even clad in their combat apparel-for the exception of Bruce Banner, who has no requirment for combat attire, and Tony Stark, which doesn't quite make sense. Regardless of this, the dwindling number of customers in the cafe all exchange panicked expressions at Clint Barton's dire warning of peril.

"C'mon! This is an emergency! We need to eradicate those eggs! Evacuate the premises, guys!" Clint makes a frantic sweeping gesture with his arms. The customers immediately leap from their chairs and begin scurrying out of the building, abandoning their half-eaten food. The other Avengers, including Steve, gently usher people along. You tentatively make your way towards the door, confused and disappointed.

Tony Stark immediately jumps into your path, holding his arms out.

"Ah ah ah! Not you, oh lady love of Capsicle! You're staying right here." He tells you. Your confusion descends into utter bewilderment.

"What? But...you just-what?" You frown at him. The second the last customer vacates the cafe, Natasha kicks shut the door, nonchalantly.

 

"Oh man, that was the biggest crock of bullshit I've ever spouted in my life-and they _**bought**_ it! Wow. Now we have the whole place to ourselves." Clint says, aghast, chuckling to himself.

"Told y'all wearing the gear would help seal the deal!" Sam Wilson reminds them.

"I think we could have come in wearing hot pants and tube tops, they'd still have left. We're practically celebrities, Wilson." Natasha remarks drily.

"I personally would be interested to see Thor in hot pants." Tony pipes up.

"What are 'hot pants', my companions? I assume they are part of the Midgardian garb? Should I take to wearing them to immerse myself in the culture of Midgard?" Thor inquires.

"No!" Sam quickly intervenes. "You don't need to wear hot pants, Thor!"

"You are _**no**_ fun, whatsoever, Flappy Bird." Tony rallies.

During this rapid exchange, you stare at the group, utterly perplexed.

 

"Do I have to remind you boys why we're here? Well, obviously not you, Steve." Natasha asks the group, leaning back against the wall, her arms folded. Steve removes his mask, and greets you with a delighted smile.

"Nice to see you again, [Your Name]." He says, softly, lovingly-like you and him are the only two people in the room. You can't resist the temptation to smile fondly at him, and without realising, you both end up gazing at one another adoringly. Tony mockingly whistles Tchaikovksy's 'Love Theme', earning a chuckle from Clint, Sam and Bucky, an exasperated roll of the eyes from Natasha and a weary smile from Bruce. Steve, as he so often does, blushes.

"Knock it off, Stark." Natasha admonishes the mischievous billionaire.

"I'm only providing the soundtrack to their sickeningly adorable 'moment'." He protests. "Soooo...you must be [Your Name]? The lovely lady of Capsicle's affections? " Tony quickly says, smoothly winding his arm around your shoulders.

"Um...yeah. Yeah, I am. Nice to, um, meet you all." You say, uncertainly.

"Nice to meet you too." Clint gives you a small, jaunty wave. "Sorry for scaring off your customers. We figured it'd be easier to get to know you without anyone bothering us."

"Yep. You've got us for company until closing time, doll." Bucky chimes.

"Lucky woman." Natasha offers you a wry, one-sided smile.

 

"Oh...err-that's... _ **great**_?" You look at them questioningly.

"Precisely! We have _**so**_ much to talk about. You, us, me, your life, me, your ambitions, Steve, me again-and the various sexual positions you plan on trying out with Steve-" Tony, still holding onto you, says, with a wink. Bucky snorts loudly.

"Wait, what?" You widen your eyes at him in astonishment.

"Stark, I swear to God-" Steve growls.

"Tsk, tsk, Capsicle. I thought you didn't believe in blaspheming. **_You bad boy_**." Tony chastises the super-soldier.

"I'm sure Steve's gonna be hearing plentya _**that**_." Sam suggests. Steve groans exhaustedly.

"This is going to be one interesting evening." You declare in a mild trance, still surprised by the whole situation.

 

 


	6. The Start To An Unforgettable Evening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! I'm so so so sorry about how long it's taken for an upload.
> 
> I've had to stay away from writing for the past few weeks because I had to do a project as part of my studies-and it needed ALL of my free time :s
> 
> Hope the sixth installment of Fajitas and Cake does not disappoint. More to the point, I hope it was at least worth the wait (she says with an embarrassed smile). Hehe.
> 
> But I'm back, and I'm here to provide you with good ol' literary entertainment :p

You're still trying to process the unceremonious and somewhat comedic entrance of the Avengers into your life, as well as the cafe, while the seven of them settle down at one of the larger tables. Steve lingers beside you, lightly placing a hand on your back to reassure you.

"[Your Name], are you okay? This isn't too much, right?" He asks, in a voice as warm as a freshly baked cookie. You don't immediately register his question, and stare blankly at his face for a few seconds. When you regain some semblance of awareness, you shut your eyes and shake your head, as if to cast aside the momentary stupor.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm alright, Steve. I'm just-" You hold your hands up, palms facing the ceiling, and make minute circular motions, whilst searching for the right word, "-adjusting. I guess." You finally say. Steve presents you with a beaming smile, and touches the back of your hand, grazing his thumb over the lines of your palm.

"I know it seems kinda...peculiar, but you'll get over that feeling soon. Granted, they're not the most docile people in the world, they don't opt to make people uncomfortable. Well. Not deliberately, at least." Steve glances sideways, pursing his lips a little.

"I'd like to say 'That's a relief', but I'm not sure..."

"You and me, both." Steve concedes, with a raise of his eyebrows. A bright smile pulls back the corners of your mouth, and your eyes squint during the demonstration of fondness. Steve's own eyes wander across your face, presumably marvelling at every pore, every individual feature. From the table comes two whistled notes, and a loud clucking of a tongue against the roof the owner's mouth.

 

"Hey, Captain Lover-boy, get that glorious piece of ass over here!" Tony calls out. Steve shoots the billionaire a reproachful look, folding his arms across his broad chest.

"Glorious _**piece of ass**_ ?" He repeats, scathingly.

"I was talking about _**you**_ , you star spangled bimbo. Thank God you've got your good looks, Rogers." Tony remarks, with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, to which Steve responds with a wintry smile.

"To be fair, Steve, you do have a magnificent butt." You pipe up, peering down not-so-subtly at the pert, firm buttocks of Captain America, swathed in the dark blue of his tactical gear- clothing which accentuates the genetic (and somewhat serum-boosted) blessing that will be one of his legacies. It's safe to say you long ago delcared his backside as an unequivocal masterpiece. Steve's eyes widen in, what could easily be mistaken for, either astonishment or mortification. Bucky balls his metal hand into a fist, raises it to his lips and snorts amusedly into it. This ineffective method of disgusing his mirth acts as a catalyst for the other Avengers, who snigger and cackle like school-children upon hearing a sexual innuendo. Your lips curl into an innocent smile, making an indisputable argument that even **butter** would **_never_**   melt in your mouth, and you tilt your head coquettishly, fluttering your eyelashes at your handsome romantic interest. Steve is helpless to resist your feminine charms, and chortles, those broad shoulders shaking as he does so.

"You're one mischievous woman, [Your Name]. But I guess I should accept a compliment when I'm given one, right? " He says, in an uncharacteristically flirtatious fashion.

"Now, Captain, you are _**definitely**_ flirting with me. That's not befitting of the virtuous image, now, is it?"

"[Your Name], you of all people should know I'm not as virtuous as the man portrayed by the media." He rallies, his manner verging on provocative, and his voice akin to melted chocolate being drizzled over praline. A warm flush creeps up your neck and stains your cheeks. The look in Steve's eyes is like nothing you've ever had the _**fortune**_ to see before-it's bordering on **predatory** and it's incredibly sexy. _**Oh yeah, he really is quite different from his public image,**_ you think, exhilarated, your heart now fluttering.

"You two, stop the verbal dry-humping. And get that patriotic butt over here, Rogers." Natasha commands, scraping a chair away from the table with her foot and gesturing to it. Steve's mouth twists into a chastised pout as he obeys the feisty red-head.

 

"I never thought I'd see the day. Steven Rogers-Captain America- ** _flirting_**. Wow. If I was a woman, I'd be pregnant just from hearing you talk like that. Hell. I think you've knocked me up anyway." Clint pipes up, leaning back in his chair, with his hands laced together behind his head.

"Very nice, Stevie, I didn't think you had it in you!" Bucky commends his best friend. Steve has, in the meantime, returned to his bashful self again, and he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. Tony's eyes light up and he snickers-

"But apparently [Your Name] will soon." The billionaire chirps, before jolting in his seat and yelping loudly. You assume his shin has just been bruised by a fellow Avenger's foot, and judging by the stony expression on Natasha's face, you're under no illusions as to who the perpetrator is.

"Okay, guys, maybe we can-for the time being-stray from sexual comments? Just for a coupla hours, y'know? We don't want to leave [Your Name] with a bad taste in her mouth-" Sam begins. This time, Bucky opens his mouth, devilish glee plainly obvious on his face. Sam claps his hand over the ex-assassin's mouth and issues a dire warning-

"Don't even think about it, Barnes."

The brunet super-soldier, quickly realising he's been foiled, retracts the inappropriate comment he was about to make. He simply settles back in his chair, draping one arm over the back and resting the other on the table.

"I was only gonna agree with you, Wilson. I swear." Bucky feigns inculpability, a sly smirk in place teamed with a wicked glint in his eyes.

"Uh huh, sure, you tell yourself that." Sam retorts, earning a hissing laugh from the ex-assassin. " _ **As I was saying**_ , we don't want to leave any poor impressions after today. So let's cool off and not mention any innuendo, any euphemisms, just pleasant conversation between adults."

"I second that." Bruce chips in, wearily.

"And let us celebrate the coming together of our courageous Captain and the enchanting Midgardian, who has captured his heart!" Thor declares joyously. His tireless effervescence causes you to grin widely.

 

"They'll be _**coming together**_ all right." Bucky pipes up, opportunisitically. Tony hoots with laughter.

"Buck!" Steve admonishes his friend ineffectually.

"God _**damn it**_ , Barnes!" Sam barks at the super-soldier

"My companions, I do not understand. Do you wish me to condemn the Sergeant's pronouncement?" Thor queries his fellow Avengers.

"No, you don't have to do anything, Thor. Don't take those comments too literally. Sam's just...mildly frustrated." Bruce explains to the demi-god, restfully.

" _ **Mildly**_ ? That's an understatement!" Sam says.

"Samuel, my good companion, you appear deeply aggrieved. Would you care for Asgardian ale, when we return to Anthony's Tower, to mollify you?" Thor asks, genuinely concerned.

"No! No no no, sir-ee! The last time Sam had Asgardian ale, he decided to teach Cap'n Crunch and Jack Frost-who were both **also** inebriated from that damn ale-how to dance to 'Single Ladies' and then he threw up on the couch. More precisely, _**my**_ couch!" Tony protests, and the sudden mental image of Steve dancing to Beyonce makes you snigger and want to snuggle up to him simultaneously. Sam reels in disgust at his drunken behaviour and the unpleasant after-effects of the ale, groaning queasily. 

"It wasn't that bad in the scheme of things, Stark. Besides, we quickly learned what great back-up dancers Cap and Barnes make." Clint points out wryly. Steve and Bucky promptly share a look of pique.

"Ah, Legolas, you're forgetting that he also stripped off to his underwear and not only sang, _**but did the dance**_ , to that fricking 'Fox' song!" Tony reminds the archer, who winces at the recalled memory.

"Oh yeah. Now I remember. I think I blocked it out. Y'know, with it being a trauma."

"Ha, ha, ha. My damn sides are splitting, Barton." Sam says, his words saturated in sarcasm.

 

"Is it always like this with you all?" You finally get a word in edge-ways. Steve gives you a winsome yet embarrassed smile

"Pretty much. I tend to sit back and enjoy the free show. The next time we're all together, I'll buy some popcorn for the two of us." Natasha says in that sultry rasp, a ghost of a smirk on her lips.

"Just think, we'll never have to go to a movie theatre **ever** again." You say, winning a huff of laughter from the aloof Russian.

"I've always wanted to be watched by two attractive women-" Tony starts, but squawks, obviously having been given another punt from Natasha. "Hey! Easy on the shins, Rasputin!" He cries out, subsequently regretting his exclaimation when Natasha flashes him a terrifyingly impassive look.

"Rasputin?" She recapitulates, disdainfully. Tony squirms beneath her cold stare.

"Umm...I am very, very sorry, you are a wonderful woman, with steely resolve and vast intellect. And you have fabulous hair." He hastily apologises, demonstrating the depths of his genius.

"Correct answer, Stark. Well played." Natasha offers her praise, gelidly.

"Well  _ **trained**_ , too." You pipe up. 

"Somebody needs to keep him tamed." Bruce adds amiably.

"Traitor." Tony says, in a falsely sullen attitude.

"Hardly. Shush now, Tony, we want to have our dinner." Bruce scolds the engineer, who's still in a pseudo sulk, in an almost serene fashion. You spring to attention, the reminder of food acting like a calling card.

 

"Oh crap, sorry. I forgot I'm meant to be bringing you food. Seeing as there's so many of you, I'll just write down what you want and get it sorted, no need for convention today. That is, if I had any paper...or a pen..." You trot over to the counters, and begin fumbling around for a scrap of paper and a pen.

"I'm sorry, [Your Name], I wasn't trying to make a pointed remark. I just thought it'd be the only way to get Tony to be quiet." Bruce apologises, ignoring Tony's ephemeral noise of indignation, whilst you're foraging for the necessary items.

"It's cool! I kinda forgot, but you reminded me. After all, I am the barista here. I'm getting paid to put food in front of you." You say, retrieving a notepad with just a few small pages remaining.

"You're more than just a barista to us, doll." Bucky tells you kindly.

"Ehh, not to the IRS, however. But thank you, Bucky, that's sweet of you to say." You say, after having finally procured a pen, returning to the table. You purposely stand near Steve, confirming your closeness to the super-soldier, and also allowing him a generous view of your well-fitted skirt.

"Anytime, angel." Bucky gives you a playful two-finger salute.

"Down, boy, down." Clint instructs the brunet.

"Hey, there are boundaries that even _**I**_ don't cross. I don't plan on stepping over the line between 'mild flirting' and 'trying to charm my best pal's lady-friend into bed'." The ex-assassin is quick to defend his actions.

"Aw, Buck, you're making me well up over here." Steve teases, but you see underneath the raillery, and detect the heart-warming solidarity between him and Bucky. You rest a hand on his shoulder, and he looks up at you, a face that's all fond smiles. That is until he happens to glance down, your skirt-clad hips and partially revealed thighs, in the low denier pantyhose, at his eye-level. While surprised he's only just noticed your particular selection of attire, you're satisfied by the result. That result being the level-headed, confident Captain America turning into the eternally adorable, blushing Steve. You don't draw any attention to it, silently revelling in the effect you have on the national icon.

"Soooo, can I take your order, people?" You ask, imitating a sunny-natured waitress, pen and notepad at the ready. The Avengers' enthusiasm when requesting food cannot be matched, by even the most eager customers you have ever had to serve.

 

After being given an alarmingly large list of food requests, which is inevitable when serving two super-soldiers and a demi-god built like a brick wall, you set to heating up, toasting, unwrapping, pouring, steaming a veritable banquet. The amicable patter between the Avengers in the background makes you feel strangely safe and secure. The sounds of Bucky and Steve chattering away, revisiting fond memories from the forties,  Clint and Natasha discussing the best ways of taking someone out with a teaspoon, Tony and Bruce conversing about 'thermonuclear astrophysics' and Thor regaling Sam with a few tales of godly antics on Asgard-all combine into something warm and reassuring.

Before long, you're laden with plates food-paninis, fajitas, calzones, toasted sandwiches galore- and bringing out black coffees, cappucinos, smoothies and a caramel macchiato with chocolate sprinkles.

"Stark, what the hell? Caramel macchiato?" Clint questions the billionaire, who merely scoffs at the archer.

"Don't forget the chocolate sprinkles! You see, unlike you, Legolas, I am perfectly comfortable with my sexuality, and a raging one it is at that, and feel equally comfortable ordering such a drink." Tony disregards the potential jibe, contentedly taking a sip of his macchiato. Thor then takes an impressive gulp of his own mango, passion fruit and guava berry smoothie.

"Ah-ha! This beverage is indeed palatable!" Thor announces heartily, raising his large glass. You let out a short squeak of terror.

"Mehhh! Thor! Please! Don't throw the glass down!" You gasp, your heart skipping a beat, half-expecting to hear the smash of glass on the floor. _**I've cleaned up enough smashed crockery this week, I don't need to clean up any fricking more,**_ you also mentally seethe.

"Fear not, delightful lady. I have learnt that Midgardians do not appreciate the destruction of feasting- ware. Your beverage holder shall come to no harm." The Asgardian prince promises sunnily, over the snorts of his comrades, already beginning to fill his mouth with the first of his _**seven**_ paninis. Everyone but Steve has their food in front of them. You consider it 'saving the best for last', and bring over the wonderfully familiar chicken fajitas, placing them down carefully before him.

"The usual for you, Steve." You tell him softly, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek. This, predicatably, triggers a chorus of wolf-whistles.

With brilliant timing, Steve turns such a bright shade of red-he would make a runway beacon envious.

The sight is enough to set your heart hammering away.

 

You pull up a chair beside Steve, certain the false warning of mutant reptilian eggs in the cafe's foundations has pretty much deterred any customers for the next couple of hours, and join in with the conversation. Albeit, a rather distorted one, seeing as each Avenger is talking around mouthfuls of food, cheeks swelling and sinking as they chew, and-if they happen to smile jaggedly or laugh-the 'glamorous' sight of food debris glued to their teeth. You're finally seeing the nation's heroes in all their non-glory. Though Steve, as ever, is the exception, with his golden-boy table manners. He even rebukes Bucky for trying to speak with a wad of toasted sandwich in his mouth and nearly spitting it out.

"Buck-at least chew your darn food before you talk."

" 'unk!" The brunet says, unintelligibly, chewing.

"Unk?" Sam repeats questioningly. Bucky swallows his mouthful of sandwich.

"Punk!" He reiterates, with greater clarity.

"Jerk." Steve quips. The two of them swap devious smiles.

"Table manners and blatant bromances aside, we genuinely came here with the purpose of getting to know [Your Name]." Tony refreshes the memories of everyone in the room, surprisingly matter-of-fact. "So, little lady, what can you tell us about yourself?" He asks.

"Um. Well. What would you like to know?" You suddenly feel awkward and overly self-aware.

 

"Literally, anything. Your life, your hopes and dreams, whether you smoke pot, y'know, the usual." He prompts you.

"I haven't exactly got a kick ass superhero backstory. And I don't smoke pot. Well. If I ever did, I don't remember."

"Pfft, superhero back stories are so cliched." Tony says. "But fair play. Tell us about your ambitions in life. Do you want to travel the world? Or cook meth and become a mildly unhinged drug lord?"

"Hey-oh. I see you what you did there." Clint interpolates.

"While doing a Walter White is probably more lucrative, what I actually want to do is open my own cafe-"

"You could bake reefer brownies. That'll keep the customers coming back for more." Clint pipes up. You snort unabashedly.

"And there's no better place to be, than in a cafe, when you get the munchies." You quip, earning a short burst of laughter from the Avengers. "But I genuinely want to open my own place. In fact, there's an unused two-storey building up for grabs nearby. Used to be an office for some greetings-card company, but they went bust I think. I was thinking, if I saved up enough bucks, I could put a down payment on the place."

"Business minded! I respect that! You've got yourself a keeper, Capsicle." Tony praises both you and Steve.

"Thank you. Unfortunately, on a barista's wages, putting a down payment on a place that costs sixty thousand dollars isn't much fun. So, I guess the whole cafe thing is a pipe dream, huh?" You add, in disheartenment. A couple of the Avengers offer sympathetic looks and utterances, the usual littany of morally spurring comments. You're intrigued by the expression of intent focus on Tony's face, but choose to think nothing more of it. Steve reaches across, and squeezes your hand, giving you that cherishing smile that turns your insides to quivering jelly. He's careful, aware that with his strength, he could easily crush your phalanges.

In barely a moment's notice, the door to the cafe is being pushed open with steady determination. Heads swivel round to see a young girl suddenly sprinting into the cafe shrieking enthusiastically-

"Mommy! Mommy! I told you it was them! It's the Avengers!"

"Oh great. Children. Whoopee." Tony mutters begrudgingly.

 

 


	7. Everyone Loves The Avengers, Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated at last! Hope this chapter meets your approval, folks! ^.^
> 
> Enjoy! :D

"Mommy! It's the Avengers! Oh wow wow wow!" The young girl declares gleefully, bolting over to the table. She stands between you and Steve, clutching at the table, leaping up and down. "Wow wow wow!" She yaps. Tony's face is a visual definition of chagrin. Everyone else is simply confounded by the bounding entrance of this tiny ball of energy on legs.

You're, however, bewildered by her intriguing outfit. A coronet of scarlet petals crafted from felt, a circlet of bottle green leaves-similarly made from the soft material, a dark green t-shirt, green leggings and black tennis shoes. The ensemble would have looked bizarre, had she not been-you approximated-six years old. And rather adorable, with a round face, large, curious grey eyes and the enlivening vitality which is so often a trademark of children.

"Hello!" She greets everyone at the table, waving enthusiastically. The Avengers appear to have been rendered speechless.

"Greetings to you, tiny Midgardian!" Thor breaches the wall of silence, merrily.

"Hello!" She repeats, waving at Thor in particular.

"Emily! You naughty girl! You never, ever go running off like that!" A woman's voice, coming from the entrance, scolds her daughter. You realise the mother is struggling with a baby stroller and trying to keep another child safely in tow, so you leap up and scurry over to provide assistance. The girl, Emily, swivels her head around, the petals of her coronet shaking as she does so.

"Sorry, Mommy! But look- it's the Avengers! It's Captain America! And Black Widow-yay! I wanna be just like you when I grow up!" Emily tells Natasha.

"Cold-hearted and ruthless?" Tony pipes up. For the third time today, you hear a thump beneath the table, and a yelp of discomfort from the billionaire.

 

"Emily, it was still naughty to run off like that! And you shouldn't bother people when they're trying to eat, it's not polite!" The mother reiterates, wearily, before thanking you for keeping the door held open. "I'm sorry about this, she's kinda enthusiastic about these guys." She apologises, but something in her tone tells you she finds her daughter's keenness endearing.

"Oh, it's alright, ma'am. No harm done! We appreciate every bit of support, whether it be from adult citizens or little sweethearts such as this one!" Steve assures Emily's mother, reaching out to ruffle the young's girl hair gently-without questioning the integrity of her petal coronet, of course-causing her to giggle.

"You're so _**cool**_ !" She insists. "I like _**all of you**_ ! You're super cool! Iron Man-you're like _**pew pew pew**_! And Hawkeye! And Falcon- _ **neeeooowwww whoosh**_ !"

"I feel exactly the same, kiddo." Clint concurs, amusing her. Emily's mother has now settled herself at the table next to the Avengers', positioning the stroller next to her seat and seating her other daughter by her other side.

"Would you like me to fetch you anything to eat or drink?" You offer.

"Yes, please! Just a cup of coffee for me, hun. And some _**nice**_ chocolate cake for Emily and Rosie They were wonderful in their school play." The mother directs the comment at her daughters, so clearly full of love for her children.

"I was a flower!" Emily announces, as if it were a mystery before-hand.

"I miss the days when you could proudly tell people you gave a riveting performance as a plant." Tony pretends to reminisce.

"You're just jealous because you didn't get to be a flower, aren't you, Stark?" Sam questions him, a wry look plastering his face. "I bet you were a wonderful flower, sweetie." He turns to Emily, contragulating her.

"Thank you! I danced and sang a song. Rosie did too, she got to be a flower. Everyone clapped for us!" She recounts in a slightly disjointed manner. You realise she's still standing up, between your now empty chair and Steve.

"Sweetie, you can take my seat, if you like? I'm sorting out your mom's coffee and your cake." You tell her gently.

"Thank you! I like you too. You're nice." The little girl informs you, clambering up onto the seat. Almost immediately, she lays her eyes on Bucky- in the seat next to her-in a look of pure adoration.

 

"Wowwww." She draws out the word, pinning Bucky with her unwavering gaze. The ex-assassin looks uncomfortable. "You're Bucky Barnes. You're sooo handsome."

"Uhh...thanks." He replies stiffly.

"Looks like we've found Bucky's number one fan." Steve says, playfully.

"When I'm old enough, can I join the Avengers and get married to you?" She asks, without a shred of inhibition. Every adult in the room, with the exception of Bucky, bursts into peals of laughter.

"Well, Barnes, we've found you a nice gal of the twenty first century to get hitched to. Invite us to your tea parties, won't you? I'd love to meet your new friends Mr and Mrs Bunny-Rabbit." Clint teases the dark-haired super-soldier. You hear Bucky mutter something, directed at the archer, in Russian. Natasha nearly spits out her coffee at his utterance.

"You're soooo cool and handsome. Please, please, please can we get married?" Emily asks imploringly. You notice she's clasping her hands together and staring up at him with doe eyes.

"Emily..." Her mother sighs.

"Oh, Barnes doesn't mind. He loves being a woman-magnet." Sam chirps.

"Yes. Emphasis on the 'woman' part of that sentence." Bucky points out sternly.

"Please?" Emily asks again, pushing out her lower lip. _**Ah, she's learned quickly the deadly power of the puppy pout,**_ you think amusedly.

"Buck, you're not gonna turn down a marriage proposal, are you?" Steve leans forward on his elbows as he addresses his best friend. He catches your eye as you observe the scene unfolding before you, and the two of you exchange flickering smirks.

"Fine. We can get married." Bucky agrees obligingly. A gleeful grin lights up Emily's face.

"Yay! Yaaaay! We're gonna get married, and I'll wear a dress and have lots and lots flowers, and you'll wear a suit and keep your hair down because it's soooooo handsome! Then we'll hold hands and go to the park and eat ice cream everyday, and we'll buy a dog, a cat and a hamster and _**ooo** **ooo**_ ! We can have a _**huuuuuge**_ house with a pi-pick-picked- _ **picket**_ fence-but _**no babies**_ until after I have a career. I need to live my life first." Emily tells him sternly. A chorus of sniggers and chuckles fill the cafe.

"You heard her, Barnes. No kids until after the job, house, pets and ice cream." Sam warns the ex-assassin with a dead-pan expression. You clap your hand over your mouth, narrowly avoiding a rather un-ladylike splutter of laughter. Steve looks at you, his own mouth upturned as he's clearly straining not to hoot with laughter with himself.

 

"Sounds like a plan." Bucky says co-operatively, with a despondent sigh.

"Yay! You're gonna be my husband! Yay! Oh, I'm so happy! I'm the luckiest girl ever!" Emily celebrates, throwing her arms around the super-soldier's waist.

"Oh, Emily." Her mother says ineffectually. Despite Bucky's reluctant acceptance of Emily's attentions and affections, he places a hand on her back and his bionic hand on her shoulder, in some semblance of a hug.

"Aww, cute moment. I'm afraid I have to interrupt it though-with _**chocolate cake**_ !" You announce cheerfully, proudly presenting two plates topped with generous slices of cake and forks.

"Oo, cake!" Emily's attention is abruptly diverted, and she begins fidgeting excitedly in her chair.

"For you-" You place the plate in front of her.

"Thank you!"

"And for you, Rosie-" You have to peer around Sam and Thor to catch sight of the quieter daughter, who has intentionally positioned herself in a such a way so as not to be too noticeable. The reason for her doing so becomes clear when you see her; the slanting of her eyes, distinctive roundness of her adorable face- Rosie has Down's syndrome, and is probably worried about being ostracised. The fact that such an attitude has been displayed towards her, causing her reticence, makes you feel disgusted with such horribly misinformed or prejudiced people. However, certain that the Avengers-of all people-will be welcoming, you kindly suggest-

 

"Hey, Rosie. Do you want to move closer to this table so you don't have to hold your plate? It's a lot more comfortable that way."

"I'm not too sure-" Her mom begins, but Emily interrupts through a mouthful of cake-

"I want Rosie to sit at the table! She was a pretty flower too-not like those meanie, snot-heads!" The child insists.

"Alright. Alright, Emily. Rosie, do you want to sit at the table, sweetie?"

"Mmm." She hums nervously, hunching her shoulders.

"You're more than welcome to sit between me and Tony." Bruce tells her gently, shuffling his chair along to make a reasonable space.

"Oh-kay." Rosie answers sheepishly, standing up to let her mom move the chair into the gap. "Thank you, Mommy." She turns to her mother. As you place the cake-laden plate down she looks up at you, with a tentative smile. "Thank you."

"No problem, sweetie." You assure her, fondly. "Oo, and of course, for Captain America-" You whisk around the table, and plant another kiss on his cheek.

"Bow-chicka-wow-wow." Clint sings, after you incite yet another blush from the national icon.

"You're getting plenty of those from now on, Captain." You say, casting a flirtatious look over your shoulder, striding back to the counters to prepare the coffee.

"I'm glad!" Steve declares, brushing his fingertips over his recently kissed cheek.

"Maybe he was hoping for plenty of other things involving your- _ **owww**_! Holy sh-" Tony remembers the presence of children, and promptly censors himself, "-sugar cubes!" He cradles his punished shin. Natasha has the slightest glimmer of a victorious smile on her mouth. Rosie's anxious smile has turned into grin-made cuter by the absence of a couple of her milk teeth.

"Ohhh, I see the look of evil delight in your eyes, tiny woman. You plan on tormenting a poor, handsome, debonair devil one day, by kicking him repeatedly in the shins." Tony pretends to chide Rosie, who ends up giggling at him.

"Debonair?" Natasha arches a neatly plucked eyebrow, holding her toasted sandwich close to her lips.

" _ **Yes**_ -I'm suave, I'm stylish-"

"And oh-so-modest(!)" Bruce chips in, taking a bite of his food. Everyone, but the children, cackle in amusement.

"Sassy Bruce is my favourite kind of Bruce." Clint states.

 

"Iron Man, what did you mean about Captain America hoping for other things? Do you mean like hugs? Or... _ **mouth kiss-ys**_ ?" Emily asks, the last few words spoken in an urgent whisper-as if the very thought of 'mouth kisses' were taboo.

"Yeah. Yeah, something like that." Tony lies smoothly. Emily and Rosie's mom rolls her eyes, and the other Avengers exchange knowing looks. Steve glances over at you, and you simply wink at him.

"Ooooo! Captain America wants mouth kiss-ys from the pretty cafe lady!" Emily claps her hands to her cheeks, dropping her fork onto the table with a shrill clatter.

"Emily, be careful, hun!" Her mom offers a word of caution. Emily and Rosie's infant sibling gurgles and grizzles, clearly disgruntled by the horribly tinny noise. The mother reaches over and scoops the unsettled baby up into her arms, cradling it gently.

"Sorry, Mommy, did I wake Olivia up?" Emily asks, suddenly grave.

"No, angel, she was already waking up. She's probably just a bit annoyed." Her mother's voice is soft, full of tenderness, as she looks at Olivia's little face. The baby is grizzling rather loudly now, whimpers steadily increasing in volume-like a revving engine-the sound is all too familiar, a sign that Olivia is about to start wailing in irritation.

"Uh oh. I'm not good around small, crying....objects." Tony points out, warily.

"Did you just call a baby an 'object'?" Bruce peers at the billionaire sceptically.

"No! I merely stated that I am... _ **uncomfortable**_... in the presence of _**things**_ that happen to...cry. I wasn't specifically, um, referring to the baby-"

"Stark. Four words. Digging. Hole. Deeper. Yourself." Steve says.

"Did you just sass me, Rogers?" Tony acquires the air of one who has been mortally offended. Olivia lets out a wail, balling her tiny hands into fists. Most of the Avengers flinch at the sound. From what is visible of Olivia's face, all you see is a gaping, toothless mouth.

 

Thor abandons his veritable feast of food and turns around. Quickly wiping his hands on a napkin, he inquires politely-

"Might I hold your distressed offspring, fair lady?"

"Um..."

"Worry not, I simply wish to help you provide comfort to the child. I confess, I have grown fond of your miniature Midgardians." The demi-god explains heartily. The tired mother eyes Thor cautiously, slowly passing her baby over to him. The Asgardian cradles Olivia. as carefully as her own mother, in his huge arms.

"Greetings, Lady Olivia of Midgard. I see you have been vexed by the sounds of companionable chatter-" He begins, almost apologetically. Miraculously, Olivia quietens to a soft whimper-her mother's face a picture of astonishment. The demi-god gently jigs the infant, and continues to speak in his deep, lulling voice-

"-but I wish you to know that no harm shall fall upon you. Please forgive the disturbance, miniature lady. Oh, and what an endearing Midgardian you are!" Thor declares fondly, causing Olivia's whimpering to become content gurgles. "While your face is gloriously rotund, you do indeed bear the traces of beauty inherited from your mother, Lady Olivia. You shall grow to be a powerful woman, with unwavering resolve! Perhaps a fearsome warrior, like my beloved companion Lady Sif? The world has many wonderful things in store for you, little one!" He tells the baby-who is now emitting soft, high-pitched noises of joy, reaching up to touch Thor's beard with her minute fingers. Her mom looks utterly astonished.

"Well, whaddya know, Thor Odinson, Crown Prince of Asgard, god of thunder, is a baby whisperer. If the whole bein' a prince thing doesn't work out, you could always try becoming a nanny, Thor." Sam remarks.

"Indeed. However, good companion, you forgot to mention that I am also the god of _**fertility**_." The demi-god flashes a dazzling smile at the mother-of-three. Bucky snorts into his cup of coffee. Tony, on the other hand, drops his face into his hands, shaking his head as if in despair.

"Sorry, must have slipped my mind, buddy." Sam replies sardonically.

"Fear not, Samuel, all is forgiven." Thor says, blissfully unaware of the sarcasm. You can't help but feel an odd surge of affection for the demi-god when he hold his index finger up to Olivia, and lets her clutch it in her tiny fist. Her little baby-booted feet kick happily when he offers her a sun-lit smile.

"Can I just take you home with me? You're amazing!" Her mom looks both elated and aghast.

"I think Mommy wants to give Thor _**mouth kiss-ys**_." Emily whispers to Steve, with an amusing knowing look, and at a volume slightly too loud to be classed as whispering. Steve valiantly refrains from smirking-unlike the majority of the other Avengers-and leans forward, peering from side to side, as if about to divulge confidential information-

"Truth be told, Emily, I think there are a lot of Mommies who want to kiss Thor."

You struggle to maintain a straight-face when delivering the coffee to Emily's mother.

 

As everyone continues eating, sipping and chattering-all in merry spirits-you drag a seat across, so you're sat at Steve's side. He slides his hand underneath yours-as it rests on your leg-and interlaces his fingers between your own. When you glance up at him, his eyes squint as his mouth is upturned in an adoring smile.

"Have I already mentioned how beautiful you look, [Your Name]?" He asks, in a tone of voice that betrays just how utterly smitten he is.

"Probably, but I'm always happy to hear it." You reply with a playful simper, squeezing his hand.

"You two are so sweet, I'm going to need to my teeth pulled out. I can feel cavities developing as I speak!" Tony complains.

"Oh, Tony, don't be such a cantankerous old man!" Bruce chides him, sounding alarmingly like Tony's world-weary wife.

" _ **Old man**_ **?!** ** _Old man_ **?!" Tony squawks. Rosie's face splits into bright grin.

"Don't be so sensitive, Tony. Fine, cantankerous _**maturing man**_."

" _ **Maturing**_ isn't any better! That's a polite way of saying 'It's all going down-hill for you, bub!'" The billionaire whines, ignoring a comment from Clint about there being 'Nothing mature about him...'

"They make such a cute couple, don't they?" Bucky mutters to Emily, who titters impishly.

"Ah, speaking of sweet stuff-" You quickly interject. " Steve, I promised you a cannoli, did I not? Well, you've finished your dinner, soooo... _ **time for dessert**_!" You leap up enthusiastically from your chair, and whisk off to retrieve the Italian pastry.

Whilst carefully placing the cannoli you'd specially reserved for your national icon 'darling', you notice Rosie focusing intently on a picture she's drawing, having been given some paper and crayons by her mom some time ago, gripping the crayon tightly in her hand, her tongue poking out in pure concentration. From a distance, you see a considerable amount of red and yellow on the page, but she appears to be adding- or more precisely, _**writing**_ -the finishing touches in blue crayon, hence the unwavering focus. Bruce's attention is equally caught by the little aspiring _**artiste**_ sat next to him, and judging by the smile creeping onto his face-she's drawn someone in the near vicinity. Rosie ceases writing, holding her crayon in mid-air and looking at the final product with a victorious smile. She picks up the page and holds it out to Tony.

"Iron Man, I draw-ed you." She tells him, mouth opening in an adorable grin.

"Have you now? Let's see-" Tony says, taking the picture from her. He narrows his eyes, turning the page this way and that, in an elaborate pantomime of appraising it. The engineer sweeps his thumb and forefinger over his trimmed beard in a ponderous fashion. Rosie's mom watches him closely, as if silently willing him to accept the picture. The other Avengers seem equally intent, evidently praying in their heads for Tony not to do or say anything unwise.

 

"Hmm, you 've captured the form. The colours are very well applied. Not much shadowing or highlighting, but perhaps that's your style-slightly abstract without being a pretentious contemporary sort? Ah, and you've even added some details for my face-very precise. Hmm, I like it. Thanks, kiddo." He nods approvingly at Rosie.

Nearly everyone lets out a small breath of relief, and Rosie's face virtually lights up with delight.

"Yay!" She celebrates, throwing her arms out and hugging the billionaire. Try as he might, even Tony can't hide how much that gesture breaks through his crusty exterior. A content smile makes its appearance on Natasha's face, and widens when Tony actually hugs Rosie back-his expression showing how moved by the affection he is. The other male Avengers deliberately pay no heed to Tony, not out of spite, but of an understanding that he would feel somehow exposed or vulnerable if this tender side to him was 'witnessed'.

"Cannoli time!" You call out, scurrying forward with the plate in hand. You place it in front of Steve, who's attention-aside from being briefly drawn away by the 'picture-appraisal'-has been on you for the entirety of the time, since leaving your seat.

You glance up, and see Rosie finishing the remains of her cake. Tony, however, is subtly folding up the crayoned picture and tucking it into the safety of his pocket. He catches your eye, and actually stares at you _**cautiously**_ **,** worried you'll call him out on his sentimentality. You nod, an action so small it's barely noticeable, making an unspoken pact with the engineer that you'll not say a word.

"How are you liking that cannoli, huh?" You ask Steve.

"It's delicious! Thanks, [Your Name]! Remember though, it's like I said-I woulda come here if you'd just offered extra toast. Heck, I woulda come if you hadn't offered anything."

"There's an innuendo in there somewhere..." Bucky contemplates.

"You're missing the glaringly obvious, Barnes. How about- 'I'm sure Steve would like to give [Your Name] his creamy cannoli'?" Sam suggests, triggering a painful, meat-red blush to stain Steve's face _**and neck**_.

"Wilson, you beautiful man. Does this call for a 'fist bump'?"

"Hell yeah, my brother!" Sam chuckles, the two of them engaging in the bumping of their fists.

"You two are despicable." Natasha says dryly. "Why would [Your Name] want a cannoli? Surely she'd prefer it if Steve slid a _**chicken**_ _ **fillet**_ in her tortilla wrap?" She remarks as if both men are obtuse. The national icon turns an even deeper shade of red, and you merely flash a tight-lipped smile. Bucky and Sam hoot with exbuerant laughter. Emily observes the adults with complete bewilderment, the bizarre food innuendos-fortunately-going over her head.

 

"Or, perhaps, got some of his melted cheese between her slices of bread?" Natasha adds, giving you an apologetic smile.

"Ham in the panini?" Suggests Bucky.

"Stirred her soup with his ladle?" Sam pipes up.

"Marinated her beef bourguignon with his puree?" Clint joins in.

"Drizzled his sauce over her tiramisu?" _**Bruce**_ chimes. By this point, Steve's face has likely reached temperatures hot enough to cooks eggs on. You sigh exasperatedly, shaking your head.

"Are you all making reference to sexual intercourse?" Thor inquires, frowning in confusion.

"Oh-kay, I think we all better get back home." The mom-of-three stands up abruptly. "You've all been really...lovely. So thank you, really. It was great talking to you." She says politely, trying to herd her two daughters.

"Mommy, I don't get it. Why Captain America need to stir [Your Name]'s soup? I thought she'd be able to do that herself?" Emily asks in frustrated vexation. Nearly every Avenger grins malignly at you, causing you to break out in a blush. Steve sinks in his chair, looking mortified.

"Farewell, enchanting lady. And farewell to you, tiny Midgardians! It has been a great pleasure to meet you all!" Thor rises from his seat to say his goodbyes, carefully returning Olivia to her mom.

"It's been great meeting you too." The mom replies, slightly breathless. Thor's good looks and glorious golden mane have evidently had an effect on her. He even takes her hand and presses a chaste kiss on its back.

"Parting with you shall be a sorrow. I hope I lay eyes upon you again, Midgardian goddess."

"Oh, oh, I would _**love**_ to see you again too, Thor." She says, her expression and voice practically screaming 'Take me now, you walking wet-dream!'. She settles to gently lowering her baby into the stroller and fastening her in securely, rounding her daughters up.

"Bye, Bucky! Remember-we're getting married! Bye, Captain America! Bye, Black Widow! Bye, Hawkeye! Bye, Iron Man! Bye, Hulk! Bye, Falcon! Bye, [Your Name], the nice cafe lady!" Emily bids farewell, punctuating each one with a friendly hug, working her way around every single person. "Bye, Thor!" She looks up at the hulking demi-god. "But I might see you again because my Mommy might need you to stir her soup." She adds, oblivious to the meaning behind the innuendo, and believing it to be something  entirely innocuous. The others press their lips together in a straining effort not to laugh.

Rosie hugs Tony one more time. The engineer whispers something in her ear, and she nods enthusiastically-dashing around the table to give Natasha a hug and trademark grin (who's chilly veneer melts considerably), and then finally, you receive the warmest of hugs from the little girl.

 

Following the family's goodbyes, the Avengers consume the remnants of their food and decide to make their timely exit. As they replace the chairs at the tables they'd taken them from, you clear away the plates and cutlery, assisted by Steve and Bucky.

"Well, that's an evening I won't forget." You tell them both, stashing away the final plate to be cleaned.

"I'm hoping that's a good thing?" Steve questions you, softly clasping your hands in his.

"Yes. Definitely." You assure him sincerely. Bucky creeps away, making a subtle exit to leave the both of you alone.

"Still up for that, um, outing this weekend?" Steve asks timidly.

"'Course I am. This Sunday?"

"Sounds good. How about a movie? Or a walk, y'know, get to know each other more?"

"How about both?" You suggest, biting your lower lip coquettishly.

"I'd very much like that. Means I get to spend even more time with you."

"Right back at ya, Steve." You say, moving your face closer, angling your head to one side-his warmth breath tickling your skin. His eyelids flutter slightly, and his mouth parts, as if in anticipation of a kiss-

 

"Hey, we're makin' tracks, Cap! Ready?" Clint hollers at his friend.

"Clint, you just obliterated their moment." Natasha scolds the archer. You turn your head to give her a grateful smile.

"Thanks, guys. It's been great meeting you all. I appreciate you all coming." You tell them, whole-heartedly. Tony mock-bows theatrically, thanking you. Bucky winks affably at you, his hands holding his belt.

"It's been nice meeting you too, [Your Name]. You should stop by the Tower sometime and have dinner with us." Bruce says kindly.

"Um, did you just invite someone to _**my**_ place? What is this, Bruce?!" Tony fakes indignation.

"I guess I better go, or they'll start arguing again. I'll come pick you up at your place on Sunday, then?" Steve makes to part ways, but you seize hold of his wrists and drag him towards you. He could pull away effortlessly, but the super-soldier seems to be absolute putty in your hands.

"Not so soon, _**Captain**_. I'm getting my goodbye kiss-" You tell him fiercely, standing on your tip-toes and pushing your mouth against his in a deep, passionate kiss.

A chorus of cat-calls and wolf-whistles fill the cafe as your mouths are locked. Ever the gentleman, Steve's hands remain above waist-level, moving up to cup your face, as if hoping to pull you closer to him. After a few moments, the two of you slowly break apart, and with a silken, soft whisper, you tell the blushing super-soldier, in the intimate confines of your embrace-

"See you on Sunday, Stevie."

 


	8. A Helping Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter to finish off this fiction :) I hope you find it suitably sweet ^.^

You spend your Saturday shift in the cafe practically dancing on air, nothing is capable of dragging you down or taking the smile from your face. With the incredible success of yesterday's meeting with Steve's companions and fellow Avengers, and tomorrow's quickly approaching date with the national icon-you have a certain skip to your step, an unshakeable effervescence and a sense of inner peace. From time to time, whether toasting a sandwich or preparing a cappucino, you frequently smile contentedly to yourself. While you generally regard life with a sense of optimistic realism, today-as far as anything else is concerned-life feels like the epitome of 'sunshine and rainbows'.

Slicing warm blueberry pie and shaking a dollop of cream onto the plate, beside it, you begin singing softly to yourself, swaying your hips to upbeat songs replaying themselves in your head. The elderly lady, who's tea you'd had to clean up after a sudden attack of shakes brought on by her arthritis, is sat at one of the tables, observing you, a knowing smile on her face. She laces her fingers together, forming a bridge between her hands, and rests her chin on them. You grin widely at her, as if confirming her suspicions and her face takes on an oddly beautiful glow. The lady takes a final sip of her beverage then slowly rises, gathering her coat and purse. Before leaving, she shuffles towards you and says-

"I hope the two of you have a wonderful life together. I don't think I've ever seen you this happy, sweetie. Best of luck to you both."

"Thank you!" You reply mellifluously, shoulders hunching up as you're overwhelmed with schoolgirl-ish delight. In response, the elderly lady chuckles and exits the cafe.

You continue with your barista duties, occasionally pirouetting behind the counters when having to retrieve a food or drink item from either end. The customers are either completely indifferent, or take note of your joyous mood and smile across at you. Today is just one of those wonderful days!

 

The trill of the cafe door bell, as its opened, draws your attention-and much to your surprise, a certain ' _ **debonair**_ ' engineer makes a sweeping entrance into the cafe.

"[Your Name]! My favourite, foxy barista!" Tony greets you, clicking his fingers and pointing both index fingers at you. You wink amiably at him, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

"Tony! My favourite Tony!" You greet the billionair with equal cheer and humour. He places the back of his hand against his forehead, leaning back, as if swooning in a theatrical fashion.

"Oh, you flatter me, you devilish minx!" He gasps, in the pantomime of being deeply affected by your words. You laugh heartily, and he soon returns to his usual self.

"What brings you back here, then?"

"Can't a criminally handsome man visit his colleague's soon-to-be 'snookie-puss'? Or should I say ' _ **nookie**_ -puss'?" Tony inquires mischievously.

"Well, I suppose there's no harm in that. And...really, 'nookie-puss'? For shame, Tony, I'm disappointed in you. I expect much filthier things from you."

"I'm keeping myself relatively censored. Wouldn't want to harm the 'family-friendly' setting now, would I?" He leans forward on the counter, speaking to you in hushed tones.

"Says the man who nearly implied Steve was hoping to get oral from me, in front of two children." You rally slyly.

"Ughh, shots fired, woman." Tony groans in submission, inciting a triumphant cackle from you.

"So, really, why are you here?" You ask again, hoping for a serious answer.

 

"Well. How do I broach this without seeming tactless?" Tony queries himself.

"Tact isn't your thing. No need to fake it now." You reassure him gently.

"Normally, I would pretend to be insulted, but right now-I deeply appreciate that. Okay, so, look-you mentioned wanting to put a down payment on that building in the hopes of turning it into a snazzy cafe-"

"Uh huh..." You nod.

"-but you were having... _ **difficulties**_ with raising the funds to do so-"

"Yep." You interject dolefully.

"-what if someone, some mysterious charitable soul who need not be mentioned at all, gave you the money for the down payment and additional funds to get the place renovated and refurbished?" Tony offers an almost anxious smile.

"And this 'mysterious charitable soul' wouldn't happen to be a certain dark-haired, billionaire philanthropist standing in front of me, would he?"

"Possibly..." Tony replies in a voice higher-pitched than his usual timbre.

"You're serious?" You stare at him, mouth hanging open, completely agog.

"This is one of those rare moments, yes." He says, his expression plainly communicating his honesty.

"You're...you're not yanking my leg, right?"

"Nope." Tony assures you.

"Holy shit....can I ask...how much?"

"I was thinking, with the down payment, the building renovation, the furniture, cafe equipment and supplies, the funky deco....one hundred and fifty thousand?"

Your jaw drops so far, its close to encountering the linoleum flooring.

 

"What? Not enough?" Tony's eyebrows rise up his forehead.

"I...I....I..."

"Aye, aye, Cap'n?" The engineer teases you lightly.

"Wow. Tony. You..you don't have to-" You finally string together a sentence, but he holds up a hand and interrupts-

"No, I don't have to, but I _**want**_ to." He tells you firmly, looking uncharacteristically earnest.

"Are you sure? I mean, that's a lot of money and if the cafe doesn't work out-" Doubt rests heavily in your features, but Tony is quick to counter-

"I'm completely certain. And the cafe _**will**_ work out, because it'll have _**you**_ running the place. I haven't known you for long, but already I can quite clearly see you're an incredibly intelligent and dedicated woman who _**deserves**_ this opportunity. To let something like _**money**_ get in the way would be an absolute calamity." He reaches forward to squeeze your hand companionably. Touched, you smile at him-

"Thank you, Tony."

"Ahh, don't mention it." He brushes off your thanks, almost disgruntled by the gratitude. "But seriously, _**don't**_ mention it. Just say you had a 'charitable investor' take an interest in your entreprenuerial pursuit. That way, I can, shall we say, help give your cafe a little 'boost'. Having Tony Stark as your unofficial PR rep will do no harm, I promise. Unless I happen to be caught having sex with a transvestite prostitute in the cafe. Knowing me, that is highly likely."

"Doesn't the 'boost' thing kind of class as cheating? In addition to the 'investment'?" A pang of guilt stings your conscience.

"Some might say, with that reasoning, inheriting my dad's fortune and tech empire is cheating. I don't consider it such. I simply think of it as a ** _helping hand_ **." Tony provides you with the necessary consolation.

"I know I've already said it, but truly-thank you so much, Tony. I don't think words can describe how grateful I am. So...I'm gonna hug you!" You hurry around the counter and throw your arms around him in a friendly embrace. He chuckles softly and pats your back, reciprocating the affection.

 

"Don't worry about it, [Your Name]. You deserve this. Just...promise me one thing?" He asks, in a manner so unlike his usual self. You pull back and look him in the eyes.

"Anything." You say, unfalteringly.

"Please...keep Steve happy. For once, I don't mean it in a sexual way! I mean...emotionally. Contrary to popular opinion, I care about that noble bastard. I care about everyone on the team. I just...have, as some might say, an odd way of showing it." You glimpse vulnerability and concern pass across Tony's face as he speaks quietly to you.

"Tony, I promise to cherish Steve for as long as possible. Even if things don't work between him and me, you mark my words, I'll make sure he's happy." You clasp his hands in yours and squeeze them tight as you make your vow to him.

"Thanks, [Your Name]. That means a lot." He pulls away, and seems to recover from the slip in his facade. "For the record, I've not seen him this happy for a long time. I'm not kidding, when we were leaving last night, after that big ol' smacker you planted on him-I'm sure he had a 'semi'-" He says, fishing something out of his jeans' pocket.

"Tony!" You chide him, laughing as you do so.

"The tactical gear doesn't hide it too well. Plus, with the serum, I guess even a chubby would be difficult to hide. You're in for some fun times, little lady!" The engineer continues blithely, pressing a folded rectangular piece of paper into your palm.

" _ **Tony**_!" You shake your head, trying not to snort in amusement.

"That's my name! Don't wear it out!" He replies charasmatically, backing out of the cafe. "See you around, [Your Name]!" Tony bids you farewell, turning to face the direction in which he's walking.

"See you some time, Tony! Still got that picture from yesterday?" You ask. Tony halts in his tracks, and swivels around briefly to reply simply, yet sweetly-

"I've got it framed and in my workshop." A glimmer of a fond smile plays on his lips, before he vacates the cafe. Smiling, yourself, you open the folded piece of paper.

A signed cheque from Tony Stark for one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. All for your cafe dream. And for bringing joy to Steve.

 

Today is definitely a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much, folks, for following Fajitas and Cake. You've been fabulous, from your support to your lovely comments ^.^
> 
> I may consider doing a part two to this, but I do want to focus on some other fics of mine for the time being :) don't lose hope though!
> 
> Thanks again, you groovy beans! Lots of love to you all <3


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